


Strix Varia

by thatoneinsecurenerd



Series: Wings [2]
Category: Sanders Sides (Web Series)
Genre: Abusive Relationship mention, Adultery, Alcohol, Alternate Universe - Human, Anxiety, Dadceit AU, Dialogue Heavy, Drunkenness, Emotional Manipulation, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Heavy Angst, Implied/Referenced Homophobia, Infidelity, Kissing, M/M, Medication, Minor Original Character(s), Remy and Emile make a brief appearance, Swearing, Therapy, Unsympathetic Dark Creativity | Remus "The Duke" Sanders, Unsympathetic Deceit | Janus Sanders, Violence, physical abuse mention, sexual abuse mention
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-02
Updated: 2020-06-13
Packaged: 2021-03-02 06:21:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 27,870
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23966821
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thatoneinsecurenerd/pseuds/thatoneinsecurenerd
Summary: “Did you at least start to like us?” Patton asked Remus, before the boys could step outside. They stopped in their tracks. Remus turned back to face Patton.“I did. And the vision of a happy family became worth fighting for.”~*~Following the events of “Wings,” Ethan devises a plan to get Patton out of Logan’s arms and back into his, to get Virgil the happy family he wanted.
Relationships: Logic | Logan Sanders/Morality | Patton Sanders, Morality | Patton Sanders/Deceit Sanders
Series: Wings [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1727896
Comments: 6
Kudos: 42





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is a Sequel to "Wings." You should *really* read that one first to understand this. 
> 
> The name for this story comes from the Latin name for the barred owl. “Owls […] have been known to attack people when defending their young, their mates, or their territories” (britannica.com). This will probably make more sense once you read the whole story.

“Give me your phone.” Virgil’s father’s voice left no room for questioning, and yet... 

“Why?” They’d just gotten home from the confrontation at the Sanders’ house, and both Virgil’s father, Ethan, and his brother, Remus, were still fuming. 

“I _asked_ you to give me your phone, Virgil.” 

“You didn’t ask.” 

“May you _please_ give me your phone, Virgil?” His father’s voice sounded borderline hysterical, like he was holding back more of his anger. The look on his face, however, was one that could kill. It was a look that had once always made Virgil cry, because he knew he’d done wrong, and he hated disappointing his father. It almost had that same effect now, but Virgil knew he had to stay strong. He had to imagine Roman’s hand in his. He had to get through this. 

“I need my phone for school.” 

“Nonsense. You have a laptop, don’t you?” 

“What about texting classmates?” 

“We all know you were never texting any classmates. Just that _boy_.” The final word was said in disgust, as if the boy in question hadn’t once been his son. 

“And what if I needed to text a classmate?” 

“You don’t talk to anyone!” Remus butted in. Ethan put a hand up, silencing his younger son. 

“Facebook. You’ve still got an account.” 

“No one uses Facebook anymore.” 

“You’re about to. You’re lucky I’m allowing you to.” 

“You think I’m going to text Roman?” 

“Or Logan or Patton.” 

“I could do that just as well on Facebook.” 

“So I should take _all_ your electronic devices away?” 

“Or you could just let me have them and trust me.” 

“You think I’m going to do that after this shit you pulled?” 

“But I came back, didn’t I?” 

“You did. And you’re _not_ going back to that family.” 

“I don’t plan on it.” 

“Then these rules I’m enforcing shouldn’t be a problem.” 

“They’re a problem if they’re interfering with my academic social life.” 

“You don’t have _any_ kind of social life,” Remus repeated. 

“Remus,” Ethan reprimanded. “Go to your room. Virgil’s punishment doesn’t concern you.” Remus didn’t dare go against his father’s word. He walked past Virgil with a sneer on his lips. Ethan waited for Remus to enter his room and close the door behind him before speaking again. “Would you prefer I take your electronic devices away or that I let you keep them and monitor your activity on them?” 

“Oh, so I actually have a choice?” Virgil almost sounded bewildered. 

“If you get smart with me again, you won’t.” 

“Can I think about it?” Ethan gave no answer, leaving the room in silence. A couple minutes later, he spoke up. 

“Time’s up.” 

“What?” Now, Virgil was bewildered. “That’s not _nearly_ enough time.” 

“Phone. Now.” 

“But I didn’t make my decision.” 

“You ran out of time to. I’ve made a decision on your behalf.” 

“I’m eighteen. You can’t do that anymore.” 

“I’m housing you and paying for your education and medication. I think I can do whatever I’d like.” Virgil sighed. He knew his father was right. And frankly, he wasn’t winning this debate. This was always why he gave in. He was back in this house, so he might as well continue the trend of it, no? 

Virgil bowed his head and held out his phone: a sign of submission to his father’s will. “I’m _so_ glad we could come to an agreement, Virgil,” Ethan said, plucking the phone from his son's hand. His anger seemed to have dissipated. “Now, bring me your computer.” 

“You’re taking my devices away?” 

“No _questions_ , Virgil.” Virgil sighed again. He left the living room and his father to grab his laptop from his room. He returned to the living room shortly after and held it out. Ethan took that as well. “You’ll have to pardon me factory resetting both of these. You can log into your apps or whatever tomorrow morning.” 

“That’s your decision?” 

“Go to your room.” Again, Ethan’s voice left no room for questions. This time, Virgil didn’t speak up. He was back to giving in. It was all for the Sanders family’s benefit. He didn’t want to hurt them anymore. It was better that he, himself, got hurt. He’d handled the emotional abuse for a decade, already, so what was a few more years? 

*** 

The next morning, right before Virgil hopped out of the front seat of the car at the college, his father passed him his laptop and his cell phone. He quickly shoved the laptop into his backpack and his phone into his pocket. No goodbyes were exchanged. Virgil simply shut the door, finally free from the suffocating atmosphere of that car. 

He wasn’t really looking forward to his classes, knowing his mind would be wandering to what exactly his father might have done with his phone and laptop or how the Sanders family was faring without his presence in the house, dealing with the aftermath of the previous night’s confrontation. Of course, he wasn’t looking forward to going home, where he might feel either his father’s or his brother’s eyes on him, cautiously watching for signs that he was going to rebel again. 

At lunch, Virgil finally got to look at his phone and laptop. Both were already logged in for him. (Of course his father knew the password he used for everything that year.) He immediately noticed the new app on both devices: an activity tracking app. This app was the only app on the phone, aside from the texting and calling apps and the app store, but the laptop also had Firefox and Email. 

Virgil went into the app store on both devices and used the college’s Wi-Fi to download apps he needed for school, Safari on his phone, and Facebook on both devices to satisfy what he was sure were his father’s wishes. By the time that was all done, he had to go to class again. 

He had one less worry on his mind, but his mind was most certainly still far from his academics. Now, he was worried about the Sanders family, about what Hell Remus might be putting Roman through at school and what Hell his father might be putting the Sanders patriarchs through at work. 

He took the bus home, as usual, headphones blasting music (again, as usual). He tried to block out his worries, telling himself that he’d find out everything once he got home. And that was most certainly true. 

“What the fuck were you thinking?” in his father’s angry voice was the first thing Virgil heard upon walking through the front door, the sound cutting through his music. He shut off his music and pushed his headphones down to around his neck. He would’ve liked to slip out of the living room unnoticed, however, the confrontation between father and son was occurring in that room, and Virgil’s entrance was instantly noticed. Ethan turned to his son and held out his hand. 

‘Give me,’ the gesture said, and Virgil knew exactly what his father wanted. He knelt down and pulled his laptop out of his backpack, handing it over. Remus had made to move out of the room, but instantly, Ethan’s attention was back on him. 

“Don’t even _think_ about leaving this room, Remus Lee,” Ethan berated harshly. Then he directed his attention to Virgil, eyebrow quirked up as if to ask ‘aren’t you forgetting something?’ 

“Homework,” Virgil responded. 

“You know that’s not the rule. Laptop for homework. Phone so you can contact me immediately while you’re at school.” Ethan’s tone was no-nonsense. 

“I have to collaborate with a classmate on a project.” 

“Facebook. We went over this, Virgil. Don’t make me regret letting you keep these things.” 

“You can’t just take them away.” Ethan stepped toward Virgil. Virgil’s hands shook with nervousness at his angry father’s proximity. Ethan had never hit him before, but there was a first time for everything, and Remus had certainly done something to piss him off only moments before. 

“Watch me.” Ethan snatched the phone out of Virgil’s pocket. “Go to your room.” 

“I need my laptop.” 

“Your homework can wait.” 

“It has to be done!” 

“You’ve lost the privilege tonight.” 

“That’s inhibiting my education!” 

“You should’ve thought about that before you disobeyed me. Now go.” 

“What did Remus do?” 

“ _Go_.” 

“You might as well tell me. I’ll be able to hear it from my bedroom.” 

“You want to be involved in the discussion? Fine. Sit down and listen to what happened, and tell me how you, a logical, _fair_ , well-intentioned adult, would discipline him.” Virgil sat down on the couch, hoping he wouldn’t regret this. Remus seemed hesitant to speak. After all, he hadn’t been allowed to be in the same room the night before, when _Virgil’s_ punishment was being discussed. “ _Well_ , Remus?” 

“I punched Roman.” Remus’ voice was quiet. 

“What was that? I don’t think your brother heard you.” 

“I punched Roman!” Remus almost shouted. 

“Now tell your brother what possessed you to do that.” 

“He deserved it for getting into your head. He deserved it because that family stole you away from us.” 

“I left of my own accord,” Virgil said. 

“But you wouldn’t have if he hadn’t convinced you to do it.” 

“It didn’t take much convincing. I couldn’t take it here anymore.” Virgil’s voice was soft. He had seemed to forget that it was Ethan and Remus in the room with him, not, perhaps, his therapist. “The negativity was bad for my anxiety. The unjust hatred was too much. A decade-long grudge was too much. 

“The Sanders’ didn’t have to take me in, but they did. They took me in even though they knew who I was and who you both were and what might happen if they did take me in. If it was Roman on our doorstep, I know neither of you would take him in.” 

“I would have gladly taken Roman in,” Ethan spoke up. If Virgil had had an illusion of being in his therapist’s office, this would have shattered it. 

“Bull _shit_!” 

“We’re not talking about me.” Ethan appeared to be deflecting the topic. “We’re talking about your brother. Remus, why don’t you tell your brother how the principal disciplined you?” 

“One-week suspension,” the boy said. 

“For one punch?” 

“Or about twenty. I lost count after three.” 

“Can you not count any higher than that?” 

“Shut the fuck up.” 

“Remus, Virgil, play nice,” Ethan gently scolded them. “Keep going, Remus.” 

“When the principal said Roman got off scot-free – ‘ _because he didn’t do anything_ -’” Remus’ voice was high-pitched, mocking, “-I shoved him into the wall of lockers so hard he got a mild concussion. So I got another week of suspension.” 

“Violence isn’t like you, Remus,” Virgil said. He felt protective over his younger brother, even if they didn’t always get along. “What changed?” 

“Roman’s stupid face just pisses me off.” 

“It has to be more than that.” 

“Just because you go to therapy doesn’t mean you know how – or have my permission to – psychoanalyze me.” 

“Should we have _you_ start going to therapy, as well, Remus?” Ethan asked. Remus scoffed. 

“We might as well _all_ go. Make a fucking holiday out of it.” 

“It’s a serious question.” 

“I’m not sick in the head. I don’t need to see a shrink.” 

“If your anger is manifesting itself as violence, perhaps you should consider it. You can’t keep getting into trouble.” 

“You won’t bail me out of it?” 

“I don’t think he should,” Virgil said. 

“No one asked you.” 

“Just take your punishment and try a session with my therapist.” 

“You can’t make me.” This time, it was Virgil who scoffed. 

“Our father has rebuked my phone and laptop privileges, even preventing me from doing my homework tonight. We both know he can do whatever he damn well pleases. We’re not going to stop him. I tried.” 

“You didn’t _try_. You _fled_. Like a _coward_.” 

“I took a stand in the only way I know how!” 

“And look where that got you! Nowhere!” 

“That’s enough from the both of you,” Ethan told them harshly. “Remus, phone.” Remus made no move to hand over his phone. “ _Now_.” His father’s voice was sterner. “ _Now_ , Remus. This is the last time I’ll say it.” 

“Or what? You’ll take it off me yourself?” 

“Would you like a punishment from me, as well?” 

“Is that not what this is?” 

“ _Phone_.” Still nothing. Virgil made to stand, hoping to escape the room before it became the eye of another, likely more volatile storm. “Where do you think you’re going, Virgil?” Ethan’s voice shifted to what seemed to be genuine curiosity, though his deadly gaze never left Remus’ direction. 

“I figured I’d start on my reading,” Virgil responded hesitantly. Ethan sighed. 

“Fine. Go. I think you’ve done enough. Letting you get involved was _clearly_ a mistake.” Virgil stood as his father sighed again. He walked out of the room, leaving whatever would happen in that room from then on behind him. 

*** 

Meanwhile, at the Sanders household, Roman looked absolutely worse for wear. Patton and Logan sat in close proximity to him at the dinner table that night, Logan watching him for symptoms of his concussion worsening (though Logan had made sure, upon picking up the boy from school, that he was well taken care of, exactly how he needed to be), and Patton’s gaze flicking between his husband and son worriedly. Roman’s lip and eyebrow were split, and his face was littered in purple-blue bruises. It hurt him to open his mouth, Roman made sure his fathers knew, but that didn’t stop him from enjoying the pasta Patton had made for him – the boy’s favorite. 

Logan made sure that Remus hadn’t broken any of Roman’s facial features (nose or jaw from the punches or skull from slamming him into the lockers). But just because nothing was broken didn’t mean it didn’t hurt like hell. Especially with a concussion, Roman needed to be monitored. Logan would have to pull him out of school for the next few days, and Roman would have to miss play rehearsals (much to his chagrin). Logan would have to work from home, and of course, Patton would do the same: a concerned father doting over his injured son. 

But for now, they would try to enjoy their dinner, silent without Roman’s dramatic retelling of his day. Patton tried to fill the silence with dad jokes, but Logan never quite understood that humor, and it hurt Roman too much to laugh. 

There was a different kind of tension in the Sanders household that night than in the Lee’s household. While the Lee’s household was tense with anger, the Sanders household was tense with sadness. They felt Virgil’s absence, they felt the pain from the night previous, they felt the pain from Remus’ assault on Roman - because of course it was meant to hurt them all. 

Roman wondered if Remus was getting praised for his behavior, if as soon as Roman came back to school, Remus would do it again. If Roman, himself, would have to endure this violence and pain for the rest of his high school career or if the previous night – or even that day - was the final straw for Logan and they’d move away as soon as Roman had recovered from his injuries. 

He didn’t want to think about leaving Virgil stuck with that family in this town. But Logan had advised him against reaching out to Virgil – not only because Virgil might incur his father’s wrath for it, but because Roman, himself, might be putting himself at risk of another attack from Remus, by association. Of course, Logan knew best, but Roman knew that Logan wouldn’t stop him if he did decide to reach out to Virgil. 

Roman knew that Logan had grown fond of the boy, just like he had a decade ago. Roman knew that both of his fathers were worried about Virgil, and while they’d be worried by the risks Roman would take if he texted Virgil, they might think the risks were worth it if Roman was able to tell them that Virgil was doing okay. _If_ Virgil was doing okay. Roman hoped Virgil was doing okay. 

His aching head was focused on how Virgil might be faring in the Lee’s household, how the atmosphere might have been affected by what Remus had done to him earlier that day. His phone felt like a weight in his pocket, practically calling out to him to pick it up, open his texting app, open his conversation with Virgil, and send him a text message. 

And soon enough, dinner was over. After he completed his chores and his homework - Logan and Patton both watching him, making sure he was fine and not overexerting himself - he was free to go to his room and do exactly that. 

He had to leave the door to his room open, so first, he waited to see at what interval his fathers checked in on him. He did so while scrolling social media, making sure his friends knew he was alright, asking a few of his classmates if they could send him the homework over the next few days. And finally, he opened his texting app. 

He actually felt anxious to text Virgil, his fathers’ worries about the risks to Roman running through his head. What if Virgil’s phone had been confiscated and it was Ethan who saw the message? What would Ethan do? What if Remus stole Virgil’s phone? What would Remus text him back? And if Virgil answered, what if he said he was living a nightmare? Could Roman live with himself, knowing there was nothing to do, knowing that Virgil had made his choice, that him and Virgil and his fathers weren’t strong enough to take the snake head on? 

Roman typed in the words and stared at them: _How are you?_ But he didn’t know if he had the courage to send them.

 _Courage_? He was Prince Roman, for fuck’s sake. Well... he was the Prince in the school’s production of Cinderella, but he could consume himself in that role for a moment. Princes had courage, after all, fighting dragons and rescuing damsels in distress. 

Virgil may not have been a damsel, but he might have surely been in distress. The least Roman could do was check on him. Prince Roman didn’t need to be scared of a snake, a dragon. All fell to the Prince and his sharp sword. 

And so, Roman sent the message. Then Patton popped his head in the room. Roman’s Prince persona crumbled, and he became a sneaky teenager, hiding something from his father. 

“I’m alright, Dad, I promise,” Roman said, putting his phone on standby and shoving it under his pillow. 

“Who are you texting, Kiddo?” 

“Just a classmate. About the homework.” 

“And you promise you’re not lying to me?” Roman felt a pang in his heart, knowing he was. He kept his hand under the pillow and crossed his fingers. It made his heart hurt worse. 

Especially when he said, “I promise.” 

“Alright, Kiddo. Just remember, phone off in an hour.” 

“Of course, Dad.” As soon as Patton walked away from Roman’s room, the boy quickly pulled out his phone and checked his texts. Stuff from his classmates, but nothing from Virgil. Roman tried to reason with himself, despite his worries. 

_He’s probably working on homework. It’s only been two minutes since you texted him; he could still be typing a reply._

Roman couldn’t help but anxiously watch the minutes tick by. Finally, he had to shut off his phone for the night with no reply from Virgil. He hoped he would hear from him in the morning. 

*** 

“You got a text last night from someone named ‘Princey,’” Ethan told his eldest son the next morning as he climbed out of the car. Virgil almost fell on his face, panic instantly overtaking him. His fingers shook as he grabbed his laptop and phone held out by his father. His stomach swirled, and he felt bile at the back of his throat. “A friend of yours?” Ethan continued, questioning. 

“A classmate,” Virgil responded instantly, voice louder than it, perhaps, needed to be. “Without access to my devices, I wasn’t able to tell him about my situation.” 

“Your classmate.” Ethan’s tone implied disbelief. “Named Princey.” 

“It’s a nickname. He said all his friends call him it because he looks like he could be the next Disney prince.” Virgil didn’t know much of what he was saying, his mouth running on autopilot, spewing lies. He’d grown up in a house of them, perhaps he’d become an expert at the craft. 

“He wanted to know how you were.” 

“Did you tell him I was fine, or did you leave him worrying?” 

“Why should he need to check in on you? You’ve not given anyone the impression that things aren’t perfect at home right now, have you?” 

“No. O-of course not. Maybe that’s just how he decided to open the conversation.” 

“Well, when you see him, tell him everything’s fine, but not to text you anymore. Facebook, Virgil, remember.” 

“I think it would be easier if I texted it to him.” 

“Won’t you see him?” 

“Not today. He’s in one of my yesterday classes.” The lies fell from Virgil’s tongue effortlessly, even as the rest of his body was in full panic mode, anxious he’d get caught in this web of lies he was weaving, itching to leave this car and this interrogation. 

“Then text him. But not during class. I need to get to work. I’ll be working late. I’ve got to make up the hours I missed yesterday. Make dinner tonight, will you? I won’t be back until you’re both asleep.” 

“Of course.” No more lying. Back to playing the obedient son. And finally, Virgil was freed from that car. Now, to get through a day of classes. 

Firstly, he ignored his father’s remark about not texting during class, tuning out the teacher going over the syllabus for what would probably be the millionth time in lieu of texting back ‘Princey,’ filling him in on the bare minimum of details: that he was in huge trouble, his phone and laptop confiscated except for during school hours, Facebook his only means of communication somehow. 

After sending this text, the thought that Ethan might have hacked into his Facebook account and changed his settings so his father would get notified about the contents of every message sent and received occurred to him. But the teacher had finished explaining the syllabus, so Virgil had to hope he’d remember that worry later and check on it. 

During lunch, Virgil did just that, after first looking at 'Princey’s’ responding text (a simple frown emoji). He didn’t dare add the boy on Facebook. Especially not after discovering that his father had, in fact, tampered with the settings on his account. 

Virgil might have once saw nothing wrong with his father’s means of disciplining him, sure that he deserved the punishment for disobeying his father, but he was older now and he knew better. He knew that his father was emotionally abusive. He knew that this punishment was unjust and extremely emotionally abusive. He knew that he could never tell his father this. He knew his father no longer trusted him, but no longer did _he_ trust his father, either. 

Virgil knew his household had been fractured. His father and brother no longer trusted him, his father was aggravated by his brother’s behavior, and his brother had no expression for the emotions he felt other than physical violence, because he’d never learned constructive means to let out his frustrations. As soon as Remus had been molded into Ethan’s perfect son, Ethan was really no longer concerned with him except for how his son bettered his reputation. The man’s focus went to his elder son, where the molding was imperfect and more time-consuming. 

How Remus didn’t see anything wrong with their father’s actions befuddled Virgil, until the epiphany came over him that of course Remus saw nothing wrong with any of it. Ethan had molded Remus into an almost perfect copy of himself. However instead of falling to emotional abuse to get his way, Remus had fallen to physical abuse to try to get what he wanted (in this case, Virgil supposed it was revenge on the Sanders family for all the hurt Ethan had him believe they’d put him through). And just like Ethan didn’t see the error in his ways when Patton filed for divorce, Remus didn’t see the error in his and his father’s ways when Virgil left. 

After all that ruminating, Virgil went to his last class of the day with a heavy heart, aching for his brother and the life he wished his brother had had with the Sanders family. He was distracted by the thought that he wished he had a time machine. 

If he had a time machine, he would go back to the time of the divorce and convince Patton and Logan to take custody over Remus, as well. So what if Virgil would still be living in Ethan’s Hell? At least Remus and Roman would have each other, along with Patton and Logan’s love. 

And when Virgil was finally on the bus home, he’d thought himself to sleepiness. He’d thought impossible thoughts. He’d thought about changes he could never make, things that could never be undone. 

When he walked into his house, it was quiet, and he crashed on the couch, falling into a sleep in which all his “what if’s” manifested. 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING: this chapter has mentions of emotional, physical, and sexual abuse. If any of these topics are triggering for you (especially the emotional and physical abuse, for which there is more detail), you'll want to skip to the section after the first set of asterisks, but also the first and second paragraphs (though you'll want to read the first sentence of the first paragraph and you'll want to skip the first sentence of the third paragraph) of that section.
> 
> A brief summary of the first section is that Virgil is speaking to a new therapist, and the therapist pretty quickly figures out that Virgil is being abused in some manner at home, and Virgil unconsciously reveals (aided by a process of elimination led by the therapist) that he knows that his father is abusing him emotionally.
> 
> The mention of physical abuse occurs in the first and second paragraphs during section two, in which you get a sense of Virgil's home life: how he feels he must walks on eggshells around Remus because he's worried that his brother will get pissed off, snap, and hit him hard enough to cause major damage.

"You promise I have doctor-patient confidentiality?” Virgil asked. He was sat before a therapist for the first time in a few months, and he certainly had a lot to talk about. Especially since moving to a new town required finding a new therapist. He’d already signed the proper paperwork, no longer needing his father’s assistance since he was no longer a minor. His father had dropped him off, telling him to call him when it was done. No “good luck,” just “here’s the check.” 

“Unless you admit to wanting to hurt yourself or someone else, in which case I have to alert your father and the police.” 

“So even though my father pays for these appointments, he won’t hear anything I talk about if it has to do with him?” 

“Not a word. Anything you say in here about him is between us. Anything you say about your brother is between just us.” 

“But the contract also mentioned abuse, right?” 

“If I have reason to suspect abuse, I have to report it to the authorities, yes.” 

“But I’m not a minor. You can’t call CPS if I were, hypothetically, being abused.” 

“ _Are_ you being abused?” 

“Do you think I’d tell you, knowing you’d have to report it to... somewhere?” 

“In the spirit of honesty, I’d like to hope so. But it’s just your first appointment. We haven’t had the chance to build up that trust yet. So how about we play a game? Twenty questions. You ask me a question, I answer, I ask you a question, you answer, until we’ve both asked twenty questions.” 

“Is this professional?” 

“Is professionalism comfortable for you?” 

“I don’t know if a game is comfortable, either. It’s kind of pressuring to think of questions.” 

“So would you just like to talk?” 

“That’s what I did with my last therapist, yeah. He’d sit and listen and take notes and just let me talk. He’d save any questions until the end. He said I didn’t have to answer them if I wasn’t comfortable with them.” 

“We can try that; however, Virgil, I might be a little more pushy about you answering my questions. If I ask questions, it’s because I deem the information you might give me in response to them crucial to getting to know more about you and your case.” 

“Okay. You won’t be upset if we don’t work out, right?” 

“We’ve got forty-five minutes left today before you need to come to a decision on that, but no, I won’t be disappointed. I know I’m not a good fit for everyone. It’s perfectly fine if I’m not a good fit for you. You’ve already signed the paperwork for our firm, so I can just refer you to one of my colleagues, who I would think would be a better fit for you.” 

“Okay. I’m going to start talking now. I have a lot to get off my chest.” The therapist readied his pen and notebook, looking up at Virgil through his eyelashes to signal the boy that he could begin speaking. 

“If you have my file from my old therapist, you should know that my fathers divorced a decade ago. You should know that I live with one of a set of twins. You should know that my father works a lot. However, since I’ve moved here for college, a lot has happened. 

“First off, my father’s ex-husband and his new husband, plus the other twin live here. My brother and father are constantly angry, my brother has been getting into fights at school. I tried to run away from home, and I’ve gotten into a buttload of trouble for it.” Virgil stopped speaking. “I guess that about sums everything up, actually. You can ask your questions now.” 

“What kind of trouble are you in?” the therapist asked. 

“No phone, no laptop.” 

“And is your brother in trouble for getting into fights at school?” 

“Yes. No phone. Plus suspended for two weeks by the school. He keeps fighting his twin.” 

“Why?” 

“Anger. He probably has anger issues.” 

“But he’s not interested in therapy?” 

“Is anyone, really?” 

“Are _you_?” 

“It’s necessary. I have anxiety.” 

“Plus all of this stuff going on in your life.” 

“Yeah.” 

“So what exactly urged you to run away?” 

“The negativity. The a- the anger. My constant worrying about what my father or brother might do.” 

“Where did you go?” 

“The family that left us.” 

“And they took you in?” 

“It was the best couple weeks of my life.” 

“Why did you go back?” 

“I didn’t want them to get hurt any worse.” 

“Hurt?” 

“My father and brother barged in one night and verbally let out their anger at them. It hurt my ex-father and brother’s hearts.” 

“So your father and brother would have continued to come back and yell at them if you’d stayed?” 

“They’re relentless. I figured it would be better if I took the hurt instead of them.” 

“Your father and brother are yelling hurtful things at you?” 

“No.” 

“And that’s the truth?” 

“Yeah.” 

“So then how are you hurting by staying there?” 

“The detriment of their negativity to my anxiety.” 

“Of course. My apologies. And you’re sure there’s nothing else?" 

“You’re asking if my brother has ever hit me?” The therapist said nothing, but Virgil took it as a yes. “He hasn’t. And neither has my father, before you get any ideas.” 

“Abuse takes more forms than just physical, did you know that?” 

“What are you implying? Sexual abuse? He’s never.” 

“There’s also...” 

“Emotional abuse. Gaslighting. Manipulation. Being hot and cold. Monitoring social activities.” 

“You’ve looked into it?” 

“I- Uh- No, I- Health class. High school.” 

“If a person realizes they are being abused, it’s not so easy to flee the abuser, either because of the connection they feel to them or because everything seems easier when they give in to their abuser’s will.” Virgil had a sense that the therapist must have already figured him out. He sat there in silence for a brief moment before the man spoke again. “That’s all the time we have for today, Virgil. Think about it. I hope to see you again.” Virgil sighed and stood up. He nodded his head in thanks before pulling out his phone and texting his father. 

He walked out of the therapist’s office, then out of the building, waiting on the front step for his father to pull into the lot and pick him up. He scrolled Facebook, but his feed was virtually empty. He didn’t have many friends or family to add on the social media platform, anyway. 

Eventually, his father showed up, and Virgil hopped into the car. The car ride home was silent. Ethan never asked Virgil how the appointment went. Virgil supposed that now that he was an adult, his father no longer cared. Or it could be that Virgil had really pissed him off. 

This was the cold of the “hot and cold,” he supposed. He knew he had no choice but to weather the storm. Just a few more years to go. 

*** 

Ethan was working late nights for a long time after that, leaving Virgil and Remus in the house to themselves. Remus was taking his suspension angrily, storming around the house, hands balled up in fists at his sides – as if he desperately needed to punch someone (maybe Roman again?) to let his anger go. Virgil was half-tempted to suggest to Remus to go out with him and buy a punching bag for his room, but he didn’t want to risk getting punched in Roman’s stead. He’d hate anyone getting punched, of course, but he knew what his brother could do, and he didn’t want to be on the receiving end of it. 

Virgil had to walk around his house on eggshells. At least his father was too preoccupied with work to intimidate or manipulate him. Virgil only saw his father when he dropped the boys off at school, and again if he happened to up at one o’clock in the morning working on homework. 

Still, though, Virgil had to be careful how he acted, what he said. He didn't want to get on his brother’s bad side and risk getting punched to the point of a concussion. He didn’t want his father to go from cold apathy (which Virgil didn’t dare take advantage of by breaking the rules laid out by his punishment for running away) to harsh discipline, while still remaining cold. Making Virgil come to the firm instead of going home directly after school, for example, so his father could keep a close eye on him. Or not allowing either of the boys to go to school (even if Remus wasn’t going to school then because of his suspension), in lieu of keeping a close eye on both of them at the firm. 

Ethan wanted to trust his kids. He tried to. He knew about teenage rebellion and figured this was all his boys’ behavior was, but to him, it still felt like disrespect. He knew that he’d sacrificed so much for his family. He’d sacrificed his home in a town where he was well-known and respected for his eldest son. He tried to give his sons the best life, even if time with them had to be sacrificed so he could make his name known and move into more lucrative positions. He couldn’t see the harshness of his punishments, seeing them as the only way to get – and keep – his sons in line. He couldn’t have them hurting his reputation. He couldn’t have them hurting each other. He couldn’t have them lashing out and making stupid decisions in the name of pesky emotions. He just wished they could see that. 

He wished he had someone who he could tell all his worries to. Someone who would assure him that he was doing the right thing, that being a single father of two boys was so hard and he was doing his best, he was doing enough. 

Once upon a time, perhaps that someone could have been Patton. But Patton had a whole new life in this town, with a new husband and a son Ethan never got to know. They were the happy family that Ethan never got to really have. Because he knew that his boys were unhappy - especially Virgil. Virgil had always been unhappy with his situation. Of course he’d finally snapped and run away. 

Ethan was glad Virgil had decided to come back. He didn’t want to lose anyone else. He didn’t want to lose the love of anyone else. He didn’t want to go back to feeling empty and having to push it down because he had boys he had to raise and work that had to be done. 

Ethan wanted a better life for his family – he wanted Virgil to be happy and successful and he wanted Remus happy and calm – so he threw himself into his work. He took on cases until his schedule was lined back to back with them and he was stumbling into the house at three in the morning, tired out of his damn mind. Virgil had to start taking the bus to school, and once Remus’ suspension was lifted, he would have to do the same or carpool with one of the neighbors. Ethan was too tired to get up and take them to school then go to work. 

He was getting a few hours of sleep a night, plus a cat nap during his lunch break. He heavily relied on coffee. He found himself crawling back to Patton, begging the man to organize his office, his schedule, grab him a coffee – even if it wasn’t his job and even if, perhaps, some part of Ethan hated Patton for breaking his heart and abandoning him, no longer able to see the best in him. 

And, truthfully, Patton declined Ethan’s requests at first. He never told Logan about them, but he knew what Logan would say: that this was just Ethan’s plan to steal Patton back, a plan that was a decade-long in the making and absolutely horrible for Patton to find himself trapped in. But then Patton started to notice the horrible state that Ethan was in. 

He had dark circles under his eyes, and he walked around slowly, like his body wasn’t quite connected to his brain, like his brain wasn’t able to work hard enough to do much more than that. He always had a large Starbucks coffee in hand, even if it was six o’clock and Patton was leaving the firm for the night. Plus, Patton had caught him napping on the clutter of papers on his desk more than once, when needing to deliver to the man a message from the front desk from one of his clients. 

Patton knew that this was Ethan throwing himself into his work, though he couldn’t imagine why (and he knew it wasn’t really his business). He knew he shouldn’t care, that Ethan had hurt him and he shouldn’t care if he was now hurting himself, but some part of Patton did still care. He wasn’t heartless. He may not have loved Ethan anymore, he may have disliked Ethan for committing such atrocities that Virgil had finally had enough and he’d decided to run away, but Patton didn’t have a cold, hating bone in his body. 

When Ethan asked him for help one last time, words slurred together and voice hoarse from the overwhelming fatigue, Patton agreed. It was almost enough to shock Ethan awake. 

Patton allowed himself to be led into Ethan’s mess of an office. He helped the tired man into his chair, pushing aside all of the clutter so he could rest his head on his arms and take a nap. Patton put on a relaxing piano playlist from Spotify, putting Ethan in the right mindset to fall asleep and Patton in the right mindset to ignore the alarm bells going off in his head and to help a colleague who was in desperate need of it. 

Patton organized Ethan’s desk, sticking information for the same cases into the same file folders. There were so many different cases with so much information that Patton started to feel overwhelmed by it. No wonder Ethan was practically dead on his feet. 

That overwhelmed feeling re-emerged when Patton took a look at the planner on Ethan’s desk. The writing inside it was simultaneously unfamiliar and familiar to Patton. He could tell it was Ethan’s writing because of the unique way he made the tails of letters at the ends of words (such as the “g” in “doing”): straight going down, then making an arch after the change in direction, whereas all of Ethan’s other letters strung together like cursive. However, the man’s writing was large and messy, as if he’d been possessed by a child in those moments. Patton knew it was just the fatigue. 

But damn, if Ethan didn’t have a lot going on. Two cases a day, every day including Sunday (when the firm was closed). Of course, Ethan was only in court every other day, but he always had cases to figure out how to defend, evidence he needed to find, and witnesses he needed to talk to. Patton also noticed dates for Virgil’s therapy appointments and later on, notes for the boys’ birthdays and important events at their schools. 

He wondered how many events Ethan was actually making it to, how many cases he’d actually won recently. He wondered if the man’s sons noticed that he wasn’t doing so well, if – even though they might not have thought the best of their father – they cared that he was self-destructing. Patton found himself caring. He found himself wanting to help. 

He let Ethan sleep as long as he needed to, keeping the music going, even when Patton finished his work and left the man’s office. Even when Patton went to go check in on Logan, a part of him paranoid that Logan would know that he wasn’t at his desk and, instead, in Ethan’s office, helping the man. 

Logan didn’t know. Or at least, he made no indication that he did. Patton was sure Logan must have known, but he was sure that Logan was trusting him to remain loyal to him (of course he would!) and remain strong enough not to fall victim to Ethan’s manipulations. Truthfully, Patton didn’t think Ethan was awake enough to be manipulative. Perhaps only manipulation in the form of the silent treatment. That kind of manipulation wouldn’t exactly send Patton back to Ethan’s arms. Patton doubted Ethan wanted him back, anyway. 

Patton wanted to help Ethan, if for no reason other than that he was, perhaps, too selfless for his own good. So he left the firm to go out and buy Ethan lunch and then grabbed a cup of cold water from the staff lounge at the firm. He brought the food and drink to the man’s office, where he was still fast asleep and the music was still playing. He hated waking the man up, but he knew the man needed to eat and have something to drink other than coffee. 

Patton couldn’t describe the look on Ethan’s face when the man woke up and noticed him: some mixture of love and surprise, as if one part of Ethan’s brain believed the two were still together, in their apartment from a decade ago, and as if another part of him had expected Patton to hate him, like the man agreeing to help him - and especially him continuing to do so once the organization was done - was all a wild dream, like he was _still_ dreaming. 

“I brought you some chocolate, too,” Patton told him softly, kindly, pulling a small bag from his coat pocket. “I hope you slept well. You’ve got an appointment with a client after lunch, but I let you sleep as long as I could. I organized all your files and your schedule, and I left voice memos with messages from your clients on your cell phone. I know that’s a breach of privacy, but it was necessary, and you should really make your password something harder than your birthday.” Ethan was too tired to say anything at all to Patton’s ramble. Plus, he’d already started drinking the cold water and shoveling down the chocolate, shocking himself awake. “I’ll be back to check on you after your appointment. It’s my lunch break now. Should I go check on your sons?” Ethan looked confused for a moment. He took another sip of water. 

“I’m sorry?” he asked, his voice already less hoarse (courtesy of the water), sure that he’d misheard Patton or that he was still dreaming or anything other than Patton being kind and helping him despite their ugly history. 

“I know Remus is still suspended. I could go to your house - if you’re willing to give me your address and the keys - and make sure he’s actually still there and that he hasn’t snuck off to the mall or something. And I could text Virgil to make sure he hasn’t been neglecting to take his medication, to make sure that he’s doing okay at school, doing okay being the man of the house for however long you’ve been putting yourself through the ringer this time.” 

“Why do you care?” 

“You were all my family once.” 

“You left us.” 

“It was what was best for me. I’m sorry that you couldn’t see that. I’m sorry that I hurt you when I left. I don’t want you to be hurting yourself now. I don’t want you to hurt the boys.” 

“I’m sure they’re fine. You’ve done enough.” Patton’s face fell as Ethan regained his cold exterior. Patton almost objected, but he thought better of it. He didn’t want to so quickly go back to Ethan’s bad side – if he’d ever actually left it. 

“If you need anything, I’m just a phone call away. Your client will be in, in half an hour. Enjoy your lunch.” Patton picked his phone up from Ethan’s desk and finally shut off the music. He stuck it back in his coat pocket, then looked worriedly at Ethan before walking out of the man’s office. 

*** 

Virgil hadn’t failed to notice his father slipping into the house in the early morning hours. The first time it happened, Virgil had woken to the creak of the front door and froze in his bed, panicked that an intruder had entered the house because he’d forgotten to lock the door after returning home from school. He never quite gotten used to the creaking sound intruding his dreams in those early morning hours, but they no longer shocked him awake. 

He didn’t know of anything he could do about it. What authority did he have to ask his father if he was sneaking around with a man behind his sons’ backs, if he was really working so late into the night, when Virgil had run away from home and destroyed the trust between father and son? And Remus sure didn’t seem to mind his father being hyperfocused on whatever it was that wasn’t his sons. 

Virgil had come home countless times as of late to find Remus not even home. He’d called his brother the first couple times, to inquire where he was, but Remus would send his call straight to voicemail and text Virgil that it was none of his business and that if Virgil tried to tell their father, Remus would blackmail him with fabricated pieces of information (for example, that he was still in contact with Roman, having broken past the barriers their father had established on Virgil’s electronic devices). 

Virgil didn’t mind the quiet, but it wasn’t so good for his anxiety when it was the result of potentially worrying causes about his family. It wasn’t so good when he was eating dinner alone because Remus was at a friend’s house or something, instead, and his father was working himself into oblivion. 

He’d once complained about the negativity, anger, and harshness that filled the house. He’d run away because of it. But he found that the polar opposite of that - this quiet peacefulness because the sources of anger were gone - wasn’t better at all. He wanted some happy balance of that. Quiet peacefulness with his family in the house. Or at least peace with his family in the house. 

Peace like he’d felt with the Sanders family. Never deafeningly quiet like the Lee’s home was now, but never loud with anger like the Lee’s house had once been. What he wouldn’t give to get that peace back. 

Maybe that’s why he picked up the house phone they never used anymore and the phone book that was simply collecting dust. Maybe that’s why he flipped it to the White Pages, to the “S” section, finger trailing down the line of names until he found the one he was looking for. Maybe that’s why he didn’t seem to think when he dialed the numbers and pressed the button with the little green phone icon then put the phone to his ear – perhaps a little too hard, his hand shaking with some anxiety he was unaware of. 

His anxiety increased with each ring of the phone, each second his call went unanswered. And right when he was about to give up hope, when he figured no one was home to answer the phone (or perhaps they were all ignoring the call from the unknown number) and he was going to be sent to voicemail (and he would never leave a voicemail), he heard the sound of someone picking up the phone. And then a voice. 

“Hello?” Virgil recognized the voice. He’d had phone calls with the owner of this voice before. He’d lived with the owner of this voice for a couple weeks, and it didn’t sound too much different over the phone. 

“Hey.” Virgil’s voice was breathless, like he was releasing all the anxiety that had mounted while he had waited for someone to answer the phone. It was tinged with an affectionate tone. 

“V?” Roman’s voice was filled with disbelief, yet quiet. 

“Hey,” Virgil repeated. 

“Where are you calling me from?” 

“House phone. No one’s home.” 

“Why did you call?” 

“I can’t take it here anymore.” 

“It sounds quiet, though.” 

“Yeah. _Too_ quiet. The only noises here now are my negative thoughts. Dad doesn’t get home until three a.m, and Remus knows he just has to get home undetected before then. What am I going to do, tell on him? My father would never believe me.” 

“So what do you want to do? Run away again and come back here?” 

“I... don’t know. I mean, I could easily run away and not have to worry about my father catching me. Remus might notice, he might try to tell on me, but I don’t know if my father would do much. He’s getting a few hours of sleep a night. I can’t imagine he’s awake enough to deal with a quote-unquote ‘problem child.’” 

“So what you’re telling me is I need to come up with another plan to get you back here?” 

“Your fathers wouldn’t accept me with open arms this time?” 

“Father would be too worried about the risks this time, I think.” 

“I’m sorry my father hurt your family.” 

“We’re fine now. Words can’t hurt us too much. We’ve got too much going on to let it sink in and destroy us.” 

“And you’re not just saying that?” 

“I mean it, V. We’re fine. I mean – and I don’t think I’m even supposed to know this-” Roman’s voice lowered in volume significantly as he let Virgil in on what he supposed was supposed to be a secret, “-Dad helped your father at work one day, because he was basically dead on his feet. So they _could_ be friends again?” 

“I don’t think so. My father wouldn’t let go of a grudge that easily, no matter how kind Patton is. I don’t know if my father would be open to a friendship with him after the Hell he went through having to push down his brokenhearted misery so he could raise his two young sons.” 

“I had no idea.” 

“I’m sure he thinks I was too young to notice. But I was observant for my age. I could understand things better than they all thought I could.” 

“Anyway, so about you coming back?” 

“I don’t think I could run away and hurt my father again. But maybe if I could just come by after school and have dinner with you guys? I could make the meal every night. I’d be back at my house by bedtime. Neither Remus nor my father would probably ever know. 

“I just need something other than this deadly silence. We don’t even need a plan, Ro. Just ask?” 

“Sure. Can I hang up then text you back their answer?” 

“My father has all these kinds of... blockades, I guess, on my phone. It wouldn’t be safe. Just call me back on this number. We never use this phone, it’s basically decoration. I’m not too worried about clearing the history.” 

“Not worried? That doesn’t sound like you.” The corner of Virgil’s lip quirked up. 

“Shut up.” He was only teasing; it was clear in his tone of voice. He ended the call, trusting that Roman would do as he asked. Now, all he had to do was wait. 

So he did, doing his homework with the phone next to him on his bed – so he could pick it up and answer it as soon as it rang. He was expecting only Roman to call that number, after all. 

He’d completed all but one problem from his last assignment for the night when the phone rang. He didn’t even bother to check the number, just hit the answer button and put the phone to his ear. “Hello?” he greeted. 

“Virgil?” The boy almost choked. It wasn’t Roman’s voice. It wasn’t Patton’s voice, and it wasn’t Logan’s voice. He recognized the voice, though. 

“Hey, Dad. What’s up?” Virgil tried to remain calm, though he could feel his fingers shake and his heart pound. 

“I know I haven’t been around much, but I’ve had a... colleague... help me arrange my schedule and keep me from working all the time. I’m coming home tonight, and I’d like to talk to you. Heart-to-heart.” 

“What about Remus?” 

“I assume he’s at a friend’s. He’s fine. It’s you I want to talk to.” 

“I’m not in trouble, am I? Heart-to-heart means honest emotions, right?” 

“Something neither of us are familiar with, I’m sure.” Was that _Ethan_ cracking a _joke_? “But yes. I think there’s some things we need to talk about. Honestly. The... colleague... encouraged it.” 

“You’re not seeing someone, are you?” 

“No, Virgil, I’m not. Should I bring home takeout tonight?” 

“We never have takeout.” 

“Your brother doesn’t have to know.” 

“Dad, are you alright?” Virgil’s voice held concern. His father was being shifty, which, despite the lying and manipulation he was known for, was unlike him. It could’ve been the mistrust in him that Virgil had caused in his father, but if his father wanted to have a heart-to-heart with him, surely there was still a shred of trust? 

“I’m fine, Virgil. Just answer the question.” Virgil could hear a hint of his father’s irritation. He must’ve still been at work. He must’ve had a million other calls he needed to make, if he was working on clearing his schedule at the encouragement of a supposed “colleague.” 

“Can you bring home Chinese? I’ll have chow mien.” 

“Of course. I’ll try to be home by seven. Don’t go anywhere.” 

“I... wasn’t planning on it.” Virgil had to force the lie past his lips, knowing his father trusted him so little now. Virgil would’ve hated to lose his father’s trust entirely. 

“Make sure the Sanders know that, then.” This time, Virgil did choke. 

“I’m sorry?” 

“You don’t think I’m monitoring the house phone, as well, Virgil?” 

“That’s not what’s urged this heart-to-heart you want to have, is it?” 

“No. I was telling you the truth, Virgil. A... colleague... is helping me.” 

“Can you tell me who the colleague is?” 

“Tonight. I’ll see you then, Virgil.” Then Ethan hung up the phone, giving Virgil no chance to continue his line of questioning. Instead, Virgil had to dial the Sanders’ number again and wait for them to pick up the phone. The answer was almost immediate. Roman’s voice, rushed. 

“Hey. I tried to call you, but it wouldn’t go through.” Roman said. 

“Yeah, my father called me. He knew I called you.” 

“Are you in trouble?” 

“No, but he’s coming home tonight. He wants to have a heart-to-heart and to go back to working less so he has more time for us – at the encouragement of a-” Virgil’s voice became mocking, showing his disbelief, “-colleague.” 

“Why do you say ‘colleague’ like that? It’s probably just my dad.” 

“Why would your dad still be helping him?” 

“I don’t know, but he did it once.” 

“So he would again? Wouldn’t Logan discourage that?” 

“Dad doesn’t have to listen to everything Father says. They’re both adults. Dad knows that he’s capable of making his own decisions. He knows that Father doesn’t have to approve of all of them. Dad isn’t about to go running back to Ethan, and Father should know that.” 

“But then why would Patton get so invested in my father’s life?” 

“For yours and Remus’ sakes, probably. Or maybe he just doesn’t want to see a colleague destroy himself.” 

“You think that’s what my father’s doing? He’s done it before, when our fathers were still married.” 

“But why?” 

“I don’t know. And he couldn’t do it after the divorce because he couldn’t find a babysitter, but he spent a lot of time working in his room. Maybe he’s just had to deal with some emotional shit all these times. Now, it’s that I ran away. Before the divorce, maybe it was that he’d been heartbroken because he thought Patton was cheating on him – or at least falling out of love with him – for Logan.” 

“But the constant working started before Logan was a huge part of our lives, didn’t it?” 

“Maybe at first, it was just to be able to financially support the whole family, then Logan entered our lives and my father’s reason changed. But it doesn’t matter now. That’s all in the past.” 

“Would you like our fathers to get back together? You remember a time when they were happy.” 

“Patton is happier now with Logan, I think. He doesn’t have to worry about my father’s emotional volatility and manipulations and dishonesty. Logan is honest with him. He doesn’t ever put his work before his family. He doesn’t use it to strike up a barrier or protect himself from emotional vulnerability. I imagine he’s honest with Patton about how he feels. My father has never been an emotional person. He’d never want to have this heart-to-heart with me if someone hadn’t encouraged him to, convinced him it was what was best.” 

“But what about what you want?” 

“It never mattered what I wanted. It never mattered what any of us wanted. We were too young to have a say, and now that we’re old enough, it’s far too late. It doesn’t matter. 

“Anyway, Ro, I’m not coming over tonight. It doesn’t matter if your fathers gave the okay.” 

“What about tomorrow?” 

“I could ask my father tonight. If this heart-to-heart restores his trust in me, maybe that’ll be enough. Maybe he’ll trust that I’m not staying away permanently this time.” 

“And if not?” 

“I don’t want to hurt him. I don’t want him to upset whoever this supposed colleague is. I don’t want to upset him.” Roman sighed, and Virgil could tell he was disappointed. Virgil _really_ hated disappointing people. “If I’m allowed, I’ll call you tonight when it’s over and let you know how it all went.” 

“Okay. I’ll talk to you later, then.” Virgil hated hearing Roman’s disappointment. It was with a heavy heart that he bid the boy farewell and hung up the phone. He went back to the last problem of his homework and had that finished in no time. 

Virgil put the phone and the phonebook back in their respective places, then waited nervously for his father to come home. 


	3. Chapter 3

Virgil had left his phone and laptop in his father’s room, abiding by the punishment that his father hadn’t ( _yet_ , hopefully) lifted. Which left him with not much to do. Sure, he had books and his art supplies, but he doubted he had the focus for either when he was so nervous. 

He found himself pacing around the house, talking to himself, wondering what his father might have to say, who this mysterious colleague of his father’s was. He saw the sun set through the kitchen window, and he knew it was later than seven o’clock, like his father had promised him he’d be home. Virgil’s stomach rumbled. He was half-tempted to eat. Shoving sweets into his mouth would certainly distract him. But he knew it wasn’t a healthy coping mechanism. 

He moved his pacing to solely the living room. He continued his muttering. And after what seemed like forever, his father finally walked through the door, a takeout bag in one hand and his brown briefcase in the other. 

Ethan took off his shoes and set his briefcase by the door. “I’m sorry I’m late, Virgil,” the man told his son, leading him into the dining room so they could eat like a family for the first time in, probably, ever. “I got held up at-” 

“Don’t worry about it,” Virgil said, cutting his father off. He really didn’t want to hear his father’s excuses. He was sure his father wouldn’t so easily be able to quit working. Virgil was used to being put on the backburner to his father’s work. “It’s enough that you actually showed up.” He didn’t mean to sound bitter, but it came off that way. 

“Virgil, I’m sorry.” His father sounded hurt. “I want to be a better father from here on out. This is a one-time thing, I promise.” 

“Don’t make promises you can’t keep. I know as soon as we’re done here, you’ll go to your room and go right back to work.” Ethan set Virgil’s box of chow mien and a pair of chopsticks in front of him. The two both began to eat. 

“I’m sorry I haven’t been a good father,” Ethan told his son after swallowing a bite of chicken fried rice covered in sweet and sour sauce. “I never meant to push you away from me.” 

“It wasn’t just you, Dad. It was this whole house. All the negativity. Remus’ violence. It’s not good for my anxiety. Even with medication, that’s not a safe environment for me.” 

“How can I make it better for you?” 

“I don’t know if you can.” 

“I shouldn’t have let you boys think so badly of Patton. You were right, Virgil. He wasn’t in the wrong. I was blinded by my hurt.” 

“It’s too late for any of this to matter now. I’m an adult. Patton is married to someone else, and he’s not about to become unfaithful. Remus is filled to the brim with unbridled rage that you helped foster. You can’t undo a decade of mistakes. 

“I already told you I wouldn’t be running away again.” 

“Then why did you call them?” 

“It’s been too quiet around here.” 

“I thought quiet is what you wanted.” 

“Never quiet. Just peace. Quiet means my mental demons can come out and play. I just don’t want the anger and negativity. There’s none of that at the Sanders’ house. I never had to worry about Logan or Patton screaming at Roman when he did something wrong. I never had to worry about bad remarks about my family; Roman says they’ve never allowed that. It’s the polar opposite of what I grew up in, over there. It’s a better environment for my anxiety.” 

“We can change here.” 

“You can’t. But I’m not going to leave again. I’d like to be able to spend some nights over there, though. Away from here, so I can recharge my batteries or whatever – so the negativity from here doesn’t overwhelm and destroy me – but I’ll always come back. No matter what shit we’ve gone through here, you and Remus are my family and I love you both.” 

“But you also love the family you barely got to have.” 

“I remember when we were all a family. I remember you working your ass off to help out our family after Roman and Remus became a part of it, but I also remember when that work turned into you avoiding home because you were hurt or jealous or whatever. Don’t you think that _that_ , along with your angry remarks, is what _really_ pushed Patton away from you? It was never Logan. It was _you_. 

“You’re emotionally abusive, and you need help.” The words crashed into Ethan like a barrage of arrows aimed for his heart. He could feel it cracking all over again. He knew this is what Patton must have thought all those years ago, but the man never had the courage to say it before Logan. _No_ , Ethan supposed, _he had never let Patton say anything against him before_. 

Virgil didn’t have Patton’s same reservations. He was raised in a household where anger was common, and anger always led to someone speaking their mind. Even with his anxiety, Virgil wouldn’t be afraid to talk back or yell at someone if he truly felt the situation called for it. There was a flame that burned bright inside of him, and if Ethan was emotionally abusive, he imagined he must have tried to snuff it. (Had he snuffed the flame in Remus, or had he merely controlled it only to fire up when Ethan believed was appropriate?) 

Ethan had never meant to hurt his sons. He wished Patton had been able to help him see the error in his ways before, wished he hadn’t subdued him so much that fleeing and never coming back was the only option he saw to save himself. 

Sure, Virgil did the same – and Ethan doubted Virgil came back of his own accord – but now the boy was trying to get Ethan to see everything he’d done wrong. He might’ve thought it was too late to fix their family, but he must have seen hope for Ethan fixing himself. It was just a matter of whether Ethan would take the plunge, if he could truly believe what his son was telling him. 

“This isn’t what I wanted to talk about, Virgil.” The man’s voice was cold. Virgil’s face fell. He thought he’d gotten through to his father. “I wanted to tell you that I’ll be home a lot more, that I want to go back to a yearly vacation to Disneyworld with the two of you. I want to celebrate your birthdays, I want to go to events at your schools. I want to be a better father.” 

“You can’t be a better father if you don’t stop the abuse.” 

“Those are outrageous claims to make against your father, Virgil.” The man’s voice sounded cold again, like he’d flipped the switch from hurt to nonchalance. Virgil had the urge to scream out his frustrations. He had the urge to throw his chopsticks across the room, even though he wasn’t yet done with his food. 

“Who’s the colleague?” Virgil finally asked, switching the topic. It was apparent to him that his other topic was going nowhere. He should’ve figured it would be hard to get an abuser to see the error their ways, just like it was hard for the abused to leave the abuser. 

“Why don’t you take a guess.” 

“I don’t know everyone you work with.” 

“So then the logical hypothesis would be...?” 

“It’s someone I know. So it’s Patton. Why is he helping you?” 

“He’s too kindhearted.” 

“You’re not going to try to get him back, are you? He won’t leave Logan.” 

“Or will he?” 

“You can’t be serious.” 

“He left me.” 

“Because...!” Virgil almost brought back up the other topic. 

“Logan has powerful methods of persuasion, but so do I.” 

“What do you plan on doing?” 

“I’m going to invite them over for dinner tomorrow. Our family eating with theirs.” 

“Will Remus be in attendance, as well?” 

“Yes. And he’d better be on his best behavior.” 

“And Logan?” 

“He has to be. Otherwise, he’d know I have an ulterior motive.” 

“What _is_ your motive with this? Other than to try to get Patton back?” 

“To show that I’m turning over a new leaf, becoming a better person, letting go of the grudge I’ve held for so long.” 

“And that’s going to throw Patton back into your arms?” 

“He wants to help me be better, and this is a step in that direction.” 

“But how will you convince him to come back to you if Logan will be in attendance?” 

“The dinner is merely to continue to build his trust. He already checks in on me in my office twice a day. That’s when I could strike.” 

“But if he sees you’re doing better, wouldn’t he stop by less?” 

“Not if I give him a reason to keep coming back.” 

“Which is?” 

“Classical conditioning. Work-related phone calls that get him into my office at the same time every day, so one day, even though I don’t call him asking for something, he comes in, anyway. Then he’s all mine.” 

“You think that’ll work?” 

“Classical conditioning has been scientifically proven, Virgil.” 

“No, I mean... you don’t think Patton will tell Logan about it and Logan will sense that something is up?” 

“The dinner is to build Logan's trust, as well. To lessen his suspicions of me.” 

“He’s smart.” 

“And I’m smarter.” 

“How can you be- Never mind. I’m sorry, Father. But why are you telling me this? You don’t think I’ll call Roman as soon as we’re done here and tell him what’s up?” 

“You want a better family. What better way to have a better family than to get Logan out of the picture and reunite our family from a decade ago?” 

“Do you still love Patton? After all these years?” 

“You’ll have to understand if I uphold your punishment over the course of this plan. I can’t risk you letting anything slip.” 

“So you still don’t trust me?” Virgil allowed his father to deflect the question. He supposed the whole plan his father had devised was enough of an answer. 

“How do I know if I can?” 

“I can show you at the dinner tomorrow.” 

“And before then?” 

“I won’t call Roman on the house phone tonight. I’ll go to my room and read a book or something until bed.” 

“Thank you, Virgil. I’ll tell your brother tomorrow morning. I’ve taken the day off work.” 

“You’re prepared for him not to take it well?” 

“Of course. I did some harmful teaching in the past. I’ll have to get him to see it in a way he’ll like, I suppose. I want Patton back, you want a happy family, I imagine he’d enjoy watching us tear that family apart like Logan did to ours first.” Hearing his father phrase it that way made Virgil’s stomach roll. He felt bile at the back of his throat. His appetite was lost, though he only had a few bites left. 

“Can I finish this in my room?” 

“If you’re careful.” Virgil nodded his agreement. He stood up, the box in hand (chopsticks poking out of it). He nodded again, a farewell to his father, before leaving the room. 

*** 

Soon enough came the night of the dinner. Virgil was the one to answer the ring of the doorbell, opening the door to the Sanders family dressed impeccably: dress slacks and a different colored button-up shirt for each member of the family. Virgil felt that his own outfit (black jeans and the purple and black hoodie he rarely took off) paled in comparison. 

“Father, the guests are here,” Virgil called out, turning his head in the direction of the kitchen before turning back to the Sanders family. “Come in.” Virgil stepped aside so the family could step into his house. The three of them sat on the couch while Virgil shut the front door. “Remus is helping my father in the kitchen.” _So Ethan could keep an eye on him._ “Can I interest you in something to drink? I’m sure dinner will be ready in a few minutes. We weren’t expecting you quite so soon.” 

“I prefer to be earlier to things,” Logan spoke up. _Perhaps to scope out any threats at the place?_ “And I’ll pass on the refreshments, but thank you for the offer, Virgil.” Virgil nodded in response, next turning his attention to Patton and Roman. 

“I’ll pass as well,” Patton said. 

“What’s for dinner?” Roman asked. “It smells amazing.” Logan sighed, seemingly a mixture of fondness and mild irritation. “I’ll pass on the drinks until dinner,” Roman added, hearing his father's sigh and understanding what it meant. 

“Dinner is spaghetti marinara, garlic bread, and corn on the cob.” 

“Sounds fancy. And delicious.” 

“It’s just spaghetti and meatballs with garlic bread and corn on the cob,” Virgil whispered, as if he was letting the family in on a large secret. “But the meatballs are a Lee family recipe. I don’t mean to spoil the mood of the evening, but Patton, perhaps you’ve had them.” 

“Perhaps I have,” the man in question responded. “But it’s been too long for me to recall, I think.” Virgil took that as a yes. Surely his father had made dinner for Patton a few times. But it probably would’ve put Logan a little more on guard if Patton had responded positively. It was never good to remember an ex. Sometimes, that’s all it took for someone to go crawling back. And sometimes, the best way to a man’s heart was through his stomach. 

“Dinner’s ready!” Ethan called out from the kitchen. That was the Sanders family’s cue to stand. They followed Virgil into the dining room, where Remus was setting down the last pieces of silverware at his spot at the table. Ethan would sit at the head of the table, Patton at the foot, Logan and Roman on the left side of Ethan, and Virgil and Remus on the right side (Remus closer to Ethan and across from Logan, so he wouldn’t dare kick out at Roman). 

The three food items sat in the center of the table, along with a pitcher of ice water. “I should have had Virgil inquire about food allergies, but I’m afraid it didn’t cross my mind in time,” Ethan told everyone apologetically. Then he shrugged his shoulders. “Dig in everyone.” 

Roman, Remus, Virgil, and Ethan weren’t at all hesitant to begin eating. Roman popped a forkful of pasta into his mouth and made a contended sound. Patton took this as an okay to dig in – though he didn’t know what reason he should have to be afraid. He had no food allergies. He also trusted Ethan not to host a dinner where someone might die. 

Logan sat for a while, not touching his food, only taking sips of the water he’d poured himself from the pitcher. He’d put the food on his plate as everyone else did, but he was still inquiring why Ethan said what he had. Logan couldn’t imagine Ethan would host a dinner where someone might be sickened - especially a dinner with two of his colleagues, who could report him to the boss of the firm, even though this wasn’t a business dinner. Logan wondered what exactly Ethan’s motives were for hosting the dinner. He wondered if it was actually more than the olive branch Virgil claimed it was. 

“Lo, you haven’t eaten yet,” Patton whispered, his voice barely audible under Ethan catching up with Roman and Roman dramatically spinning him a tale of the last decade of his life. Ethan didn’t know if this was Roman forgiving the apology he’d led with, but he was glad the boy seemed happy and had had a good life. “You’re not allergic to anything I don’t know of, are you?” 

“No, I’m just thinking,” Logan responded. 

“You can’t think on an empty stomach, and you really should eat something tonight.” 

“Of course, Patton. Thank you for looking out for me.” Patton gave his husband a small smile, watching the man take a bite of the garlic bread. He could tell that his husband liked it. The delicious bite had erased any of Logan’s hesitancy, and he dug into the food in a more proper manner than his overzealous son had. 

“This is delicious, Ethan, thank you,” Logan said, cutting into his son’s monologue. “I’m sure Ethan has heard enough of your life story, Roman,” Logan told his son gently. 

“I don’t mind it,” Ethan responded, both to Logan’s thank you for making the meal and his remark to Roman. “I’m sure you both would like to hear about the things you’ve missed in Remus and Virgil’s lives. They were family once, sort of.” 

“Virgil doesn’t speak much,” Logan responded. “But he did fill us in, while he was staying with us.” Virgil could sense his father’s rage begin to build. 

“But you haven’t heard Remus’ side of the story,” Virgil spoke up. “Perhaps he’d like to tell you some of it.” He elbowed his brother in the side. Remus swallowed his large bite of pasta. 

“Would the two of you _like_ to hear my side of the story?” Remus asked, suddenly the picture of calm. 

“Absolutely,” Patton responded. 

“I hope it’s filled with less violence than we’ve seen you show our son,” Logan told the boy. 

“I’m sorry about that,” Remus said. “It wasn’t a proper way for me to let out my anger at having to move away from home and completely start over.” Remus turned to Roman. “Ro, I’m sorry for hurting you.” To Virgil, his brother sounded like he was five years old again, and Logan had demanded that he apologize to Roman for smacking him too hard with their stuffed dragon – like he didn’t one-hundred percent mean it, because he didn’t one-hundred percent understand the harm in it. 

“Please don’t call me that,” Roman told Remus. “Only my family is allowed to call me that. You’ll have to pardon if I can’t so easily accept your apology.” 

“I understand. I deserve as much. Just as my father hopes to make up for his resentment to your family over the past years, I hope to do the same.” It sounded like Remus was speaking from a script his father had written. But Virgil must have been the only one who noticed that.

“How about you tell us your story, Remus,” Patton said to lessen the tension. Plus, he was interested. And while Remus’ story wasn’t told in a dramatic monologue like Roman’s had been and always was, Remus’ story was made interesting because of the hand gestures he did with it. Patton and Logan could see how the boys were alike, even despite their years raised apart. They both had this excitedness to them, which, if Remus didn’t tend more towards violence, could also manifest in the boy as some kind of performance art. 

The meal went by well. Everyone was happy and enjoyed the food. They weren’t all a family, but tensions definitely seemed to be less. Logan didn’t seem to be suspicious, and all the boys were happy. (At least, they seemed to be. Ethan was sure Remus hated putting on this act. Virgil was sure Remus would have loved nothing more than to hurt Roman again.) 

Their farewells were kind, and Patton made promises to have the Lee family over for dinner next time. The boys and their father waved goodbye through the window until the moment the Sanders got into their car, then pulled out of the driveway and away from the house. Then Remus’ happy face fell and the negative atmosphere returned to the Lee’s household. 

“Well, that was fun,” Ethan said, his own tone shifting from kind to sarcastic. 

“Fun while it lasted,” Virgil muttered. Aloud, he spoke, “I’m going to my room. I have homework.” Nobody made a remark asking him to stay, so he left. He went to his room and put his headphones on so he could work, keeping one off of his ear so he could hear whatever conversation his father and brother would have about the evening. 

“Do you think it worked?” Remus asked. “Did I do good?” 

“We’ll have to see,” Ethan responded. “You appeared genuine enough. As did I, I’m certain. They appeared to be enjoying themselves.” 

“What about Logan?” 

“I think I’ve showed him that I’m not a threat. I was kind to them, I fed them, I hosted them. No harm came to them, no harm _will_ come to them. _Right_ , Remus? You go back to school soon.” 

“Of course, Father. I swear no harm will come to them.” 

“Nor to your brother, I hope.” 

“I’ve never hit him. He’s a liar. He only told the Sanders that so they wouldn’t kick him to the curb.” 

“But you won’t start to hit him now that you can’t go after Roman?” 

“No. I swear.” 

“Good. Remember why we’re doing this, Remus.” 

“To destroy them.” 

“No. Well, yes. Sure.” 

“We all have our different reasons for going through with this, you said.” 

“Of course.” 

“And mine is to see Logan destroyed when we break apart his family. He deserves it for stealing Patton away from you ten years ago.” 

“Remus, that’s not...” 

“You don’t have to go back on your story now that you’re trying to get into their good graces. Not in front of me. You told me the truth.” 

“No, I’m afraid Virgil was right. He wasn’t quite young enough to forget like you and Roman were and did. He may have been seeing things through a child’s lens, but he was a smarter child than Patton or I ever gave him credit for.” Virgil found his lips curling up into a smile as he worked, upon hearing his father’s compliment of him. Compliments from Ethan were truly an extraordinary thing. “Let me tell you the real story.” 

“Seriously, Dad, you don’t have to keep up this act. The Sanders are gone. You can go back to hating them.” 

“I want Patton back. That’s my reason for doing this. I never stopped loving him. He left because I didn’t know how to love him like he deserved. I only tried to keep him under my spell.” 

“Dad...” 

“I’ve done the same with you. I tried to do the same with Virgil. You were young, malleable, easy. But I want to undo my mistakes. I want Patton and our family back, and I want to do things right this time. Please, Remus, just listen to the actual truth. Disbelieve the villainous lies I told you growing up. _I_ was in the wrong.” Remus could tell that his father wouldn’t drop this. He could see the glimmer of tears in his father’s eyes – something that was also an extraordinary thing when it came to Ethan. 

The boy sat on the couch and his father took a seat beside him. “Tell me, then. But you’ll have to pardon if I can’t so easily believe you.” 

“I understand. Thank you for hearing me out.” And then he began. 

By this time, Virgil, in the other room, had stopped doing his homework and had put his headphones on his neck. He was listening to the real truth of what had happened for the first time ever in his family. It felt nice, to him, to be right. It felt nice for the atmosphere to be filled with something other than negativity fueled by lies. It felt nice to finally know that he wasn’t delusional, believing in memories fabricated by a hopeful but traumatized child. 

It felt like a weight was lifted off his shoulders. He no longer had to be afraid to speak his truth – _the_ truth – about what had happened a decade earlier. He hoped that Remus could accept this story and would no longer be so spiteful. Perhaps his father and brother could turn over a new leaf and change, after all. 

But if Remus believed the actual truth, would he still want to go along with Ethan’s plan? What would his motivator for it be, then? He never knew what they were like as a family. He couldn’t remember. Was he just supposed to take Virgil’s word for it? 

Would he go along with the plan because it’s what their father wanted, or would he let it slip to Roman what the plan was? Of course, Roman might not believe him. It would be almost like picking between two evils – his twin brother who had punched him on numerous occasions or his ex-father who had emotionally abused his dad. 

Virgil hoped he could have the happy family back that he wished he’d never lost. The eight-year-old inside of him would love that. The anxiety inside of him would be calmed by that, he was sure. 

It never occurred to Virgil that the plan his father concocted involved manipulation, that it was emotional abuse: the very thing Virgil had wanted his father to overcome, the very thing he had run away to the Sanders from. 


	4. Chapter 4

“You’re like the snake charmer!” a female colleague enthusiastically told Patton, her hands on his desk and her body angled near his. He’d just gotten off the phone with Ethan, having checked that he was doing okay – and also if he was still able to come over for dinner that night (to which the answer was “yes, and the boys were, as well”). 

“I’m sorry?” Patton asked, eyes falling to the files on his desk (a copy of Ethan’s schedule, so he could be assured that the man wasn’t falling back into workaholism). 

“A lot of the people here call you that, you know.” 

“But why?” 

“Because of your relationship with Ethan, of course.” Patton instantly looked up at the woman. 

“We’re just colleagues.” 

“Colleagues don’t check in on each other as often as you do.” 

“I’m _married_.” He held out his hand with the wedding band to her. 

“But we all know you don’t check in on your husband very much at all.” 

“Because I know that he can take care of himself.” 

“Does he know that you bring lunch to Ethan’s office every afternoon?” 

“I’m not hiding things from my husband. He knows he has no need to be jealous, that I’m just being a kindhearted person.” 

“No other person here would do that for him, you know. They’re scared of how quickly he’s risen in the ranks. Hence the snake reference.” 

“He’s a snake because he’s well-liked and hardworking?” 

“Don’t tell me you don’t think he’s _honestly_ worked his way up to his position?” 

“I know what he’s like. I know that he’s capable of anything he sets his mind to. He works so hard that he forgets to take breaks, which is why I check in on him every so often.” 

“You sound like you know him pretty well.” 

“I would hope so.” 

“So you _are_ friends, then.” 

“I... don’t know _what_ you’d call us.” 

“Lovers?” 

“I’m _married_ ,” Patton repeated. “And I’m happy with my husband.” 

“Then lovers _once_.” The woman said it like she knew it, and Patton’s flinch confirmed it for her. As an attorney, she was able to pick up on these anxious tics, as she saw them in several of her clients on trial. 

“That’s not any of your business.” 

“But I’m right.” 

“It doesn’t matter anymore.” 

“I heard you talking to him about dinner.” 

“We have children.” 

“You had children together?” 

“Adopted. Three boys.” 

“And you’ve always raised them alongside each other?” 

“Again, not that it’s any of your business, but no. They were separated for-” 

“Patton,” Logan’s voice spoke up, only a few feet away from his husband’s desk, “is this young woman bothering you?” The woman turned to look at Logan, but Patton didn’t fail to see the fear in her eyes. Apparently, his husband had made quite the name for himself, as well. 

“I’m alright, Logan. Thank you.” 

“Because _I_ think she’s got more important work she could be doing.” Logan spoke right over Patton, knowing his husband was only trying to be kind and inoffensive. “Or else her boss might have to hear that she’s harassing the secretary.” 

“I’m sorry,” the woman said, bowing her head. She walked quickly past Logan, who was walking towards Patton’s desk. He came up behind his husband, who stood and pulled him into a hug. 

“You know you can call me if you need to get out of a tough spot, right? You know you didn’t have to answer her questions. She may be an attorney, but you don’t have to put up with her questioning.” 

“I couldn’t just ignore her,” Patton responded. 

“So you call me. Or send me an S.O.S. text from under your desk.” 

“I’m sorry, Lo.” 

“I’m not mad. I just don’t think she had any right to interrogate you.” 

“I’m fine, Lo.” 

“What was she asking about? I heard you mention the kids.” 

“She caught me at the end of my phone call with Ethan.” 

“Why were you calling him?” 

“I told you I check in on him, make sure he’s not overworking himself. And I double-checked on dinner. I figured you’d appreciate that.” 

“Oh, that’s tonight.” Logan’s voice fell. 

“‘Oh’?” Patton repeated, his own voice suddenly more sad. 

“I had to schedule dinner with a client’s sister. Tonight was the only night they had free before the trial in a few days.” 

“Then I could call Ethan and say we’ll have to push it back a night.” 

“I think Roman has been looking forward to seeing Virgil. They’ve been getting along quite swimmingly these past few weeks.” 

“Yeah. I’m glad Ethan agreed to let V stay over every other night. I think he’s really changing.” 

“So then maintain the dinner without me.” 

“You trust him?” 

“I’m still making out what to think of him. But Patton, promise me that you’ll let me know everything that happens as soon as I come home.” 

“I pinky promise.” The man held up his pinky. Logan did the same, looping theirs with a fond smile. “You’re really not too upset to miss it?” 

“I think Roman would be more upset if we cancelled it.” 

“He could have dinner over there and spend the night there, instead.” 

“It’s Virgil’s night to spend at our house, though, isn’t it? I’ll be back by nine o’clock, I’m sure. I think you’ll be okay with the boys for a couple of hours without me. They’re not kids anymore. They’re mostly independent. And,” Logan said this next bit begrudgingly, “Ethan will be there for dinner, if you do need help for any reason. And I’m just a phone call away.” 

“Okay.” Patton nodded. He released his husband from his embrace. “Now get back to work. I’m okay now. Would you like lunch? I’ll have to go get Ethan’s some.” 

“I’m alright, Patton. I was just headed that way.” 

“Then I’ll come with you.” Patton smiled brightly, and Logan was helpless to resist it. The latter man held out his hand. Patton took it, and the two walked out of the firm together. 

*** 

“I’m afraid your father had to urgently meet with a client tonight,” Patton told his son as they worked on dinner in the kitchen, next to each other. “He didn’t want to disappoint you by calling off the dinner.” 

“It won’t be the same without him.” Roman responded, sounding sad. 

“I know. But he’ll be back before you have to go to bed tonight. We can save dessert for with him, if you’d like.” 

“He’s not a big dessert person.” 

“He might make an exception for Crofters jam stuffed doughnuts.” 

“You’d really make those?” 

“We have everything for them. And Virgil’s never had them, I don’t think.” 

“Not with us, no.” 

“Then what do you say, Kiddo?” 

“I say let’s do it.” Patton smiled at the smile on Roman’s face, leaning over the cutting board to grab a small index card from a small cupboard full of small index cards. 

“I’ll get started on those while you finish that up, yeah? Virgil!” Patton called out past the kitchen. The boy in question rushed into the kitchen, headphones bouncing lightly on his shoulders. 

“Yes, Pat?” he asked. 

“Could you help Roman in here? The recipe card is sitting on the counter.” 

“Of course.” Virgil nodded. He walked past Patton, who stood by the fridge, into the kitchen. Virgil got to work helping Roman chop ingredients and put them into the pot, while Patton pulled the Crofters jam and other ingredients out of the fridge. 

Patton started working on the dessert on the kitchen counter opposite of the cutting board. Every so often, he would look back to check on the boys and the soup they were tag-teaming to make. 

Patton knew it wasn’t as fancy as the spaghetti and meatballs Ethan had prepared when he’d had _them_ over for dinner, but just like the meatballs in Ethan’s spaghetti and meatballs were a family recipe, so, too, was the soup Patton was having the boys prepare. The Crofters jam doughnuts were _not_ a family recipe, but Ethan wouldn’t be sampling any of those that night. Neither would Remus. Patton would make sure they were all there for the family dessert the Sanders (and Virgil, who was kind of an honorary Sanders) would have later that evening. 

Patton had the doughnuts frying soon enough, and he left Virgil to watch over them when he had to go answer the doorbell. “They should only have a couple minutes left on them,” Patton told the boy as he made his way out of the kitchen. “I’ll have to play host in that time, so when my cell phone timer beeps, scoop them out onto the napkin on that plate-” Patton was already almost at the door (and the doorbell rang a second time), so he couldn’t gesture to the plate in question but was sure Virgil saw it, “-and put it in the microwave to cool down.” 

“I don’t start the microwave, right?” Virgil asked. It may have seemed like a dumb question, but he didn’t want to mess up even the slightest detail. 

“You don’t.” Patton was right at the front door. He opened it after another moment, making sure Virgil had no other questions first. Remus’ hand was poised to ring the doorbell a third time. Patton could tell the boy wanted to do it again, though he’d noticed the door swing open. 

“Come in,” Patton told Ethan and Remus, stepping aside. They did. 

“It smells wonderful in here,” Ethan said. 

“That would be the doughnuts – which you’re unable to have tonight, I’m afraid.” 

“You’re making treats for without us?” Remus asked with a phony frown. But it didn’t appear fake to Patton. 

“Logan isn’t able to make it tonight, so they’re a treat for him after.” 

“He’s not working himself too hard, now, is he?” Ethan asked, seemingly sympathetic. “Maybe you need to start checking in with _him_ more?” 

“He’s doing just fine. He told me the client had no other time available except for tonight.” 

“That’s quite... unfortunate.” Ethan’s tone almost betrayed the disappointment he was supposed to be feeling. 

“Come and sit down. The soup should be ready in another ten minutes. Can I interest you in anything to drink?” Ethan and Remus followed Patton into the living room. They sat down where Patton directed them to (a similar seating arrangement to when Ethan had had the Sanders over, but this time with Ethan and Patton at different heads of the table and Virgil next to Roman and across from Remus). 

“I’ll pass,” Ethan responded. 

“As will I,” Remus replied. “But thank you from the both of us.” Ethan was watching the boys work in the kitchen. They moved in a way that made it seem like they were familiar with one another – how much space the other needed to work, where they might be headed next, etc. 

“How often do you cook meals as a family?” 

“Not often at all, actually,” Patton answered. “Usually, one person is on dinner duty. But for tonight, well, I might’ve been hoping to impress you.” Patton’s voice was kind. He didn’t mean he wanted to impress exclusively Ethan, but to the other man, it might have sort of come off that way. Maybe a bit of wishful thinking. 

“You could have whipped up takeout containers, and I’d have been impressed.” Ethan gave Patton a kind, heart-melting smile. 

“That’s very kind of you to say. But I certainly wouldn’t have whipped up takeout containers for a full family dinner.” 

“We’re a family?” Remus asked. Roman and Virgil’s heads turned Patton’s direction upon the remark. 

“We were all a family once. You boys, especially, can’t lose that bond with one another. You shouldn’t have had to, in the first place.” Patton looked apologetically at Ethan and Remus, then at Roman and Virgil. “These dinners kind of help reinforce that family bond, don’t you think?” The question was directed at Ethan. 

“Absolutely,” the man responded. “It feels just like old times.” Then a timer went off. The soup. 

“That’ll just have to cool for a few minutes,” Patton informed his guests, making to step into the kitchen as Roman shut off the stovetop. 

“We’ve got this, Pat,” Virgil (who had stepped in the opposite direction of Roman – out of the kitchen instead of further in, to the stove) told Patton. “Sit down. Roman and I can serve up the bowls when it’s ready.” Virgil led Patton to his seat, while Roman grabbed saltine crackers from a cupboard and shredded cheese from the fridge. Roman brought both to the table, then later returned with a pitcher of ice water from the fridge. 

Patton had set up the places at the table earlier, aside from the bowls for the soup. Now, he stood as if to go put the soup into bowls, but Roman beat him to it – still standing and back in the kitchen. “I’ve got this, Dad,” Roman said, grabbing a set of nice bowls from a top cupboard shelf. “Take a seat. Entertain your guests.” Patton smiled fondly, taking a seat then directing his attention to Ethan and Remus. 

“They really do grow up quite fast,” Patton said to Ethan. 

“That they do.” The twins’ cheeks flushed red in embarrassment. Virgil experienced his own embarrassment, knowing the remark could just as easily be applied to him. Virgil turned to Roman, in the kitchen. 

“Sure you don’t need any help?” the boy asked him. 

“I’ve got it. But I’ll have to do two bowls at a time,” Roman replied. 

“Without spilling anything?” 

“Alright, you’re right. Come help?” Virgil stood. 

“Of course.” He made his way into the kitchen and took a bowl from the counter. “Don’t try to take two at a time. Remus, can you come help, as well?” Virgil didn’t ask Roman if that was okay. He shouldn’t have needed to. Even if the brothers weren’t each other’s biggest fans, they could both behave, Virgil knew. And, of course, Remus obliged. 

The three boys each grabbed a bowl of soup. They set the bowls in their respective places at the table. Virgil sat down then, leaving Remus and Roman to go back into the kitchen together (Virgil’s eyes on them while the adults spoke - to make sure they didn’t start a fight) and grab the final two bowls for the parental figures. 

When everyone was served, conversation was halted in place of pouring water into glasses and adding cheese and crackers (if one so desired) to the soup. Everyone took a bite at the same time, and Remus and Roman weren’t afraid to let everyone know what they thought, their sounds of content ringing out at the same time. Patton found himself smiling around his spoon. For that night, they really did seem like a happy family. 

This happy atmosphere continued as Remus and Roman regaled their fathers with the story of the day they’d had. It continued as they ate in relative silence, small pieces of chit-chat occasionally floating by. 

But unfortunately, the night had to come to an end. Patton gifted Ethan and Remus with a half a doughnut each as he walked them outside. Remus enjoyed his in one quick shove in his mouth, cheeks puffed as he smiled his approval. 

“Thank you for having us,” Ethan said. “It was a joy. I hope we can do this again soon. My place, next time, I assume.” Patton stepped outside with Ethan and Remus, sensing that this would be a longer conversation (and he didn’t want to let the cool air into the house). “Remus, you can go ahead and get in the car.” Ethan unlocked the car for Remus, who obliged his father. As soon as he got inside, Ethan knew he was shutting himself out from the rest of the world, consuming himself with the world on his cell phone. 

“And thank you for sharing the doughnuts you said we couldn’t have,” Ethan continued. 

“Well, I couldn’t honestly keep them away from you after mentioning them,” Patton replied. “It would be cruel, no matter how much I wanted to save them for Logan. They’re his favorite.” 

“It was unfortunate he couldn’t come tonight.” 

“Yeah.” Patton sighed. “But duty calls. That's something you’re _intimately_ familiar with.” Patton tried and failed to keep a hint of bitterness from the past coming through. 

“I figure it’s too late to apologize.” 

“But I appreciate you trying to right your wrongs now. The boys are much happier having each other around, I think.” 

“And you? Are you happier?” Ethan had stepped closer to Patton. They were inches apart, and there was only a couple inches of space between Patton and the front door. 

“Ethan, I’m married.” 

“I didn’t ask that.” 

“It’s just that you’re... so close. You might be insinuating something.” 

“I would never try to rip a married man away from his husband.” Ethan couldn’t help his own bitterness that slipped past. “And anyway, our relationship is a thing of the past.” _Even though he no longer wanted it to be._

“Yeah. I’m happy with Logan. But I’m happy you and I are becoming friends again.” 

“Yeah. Friends.” Ethan’s voice was breathy, and Patton could feel it on his lips. 

“You should probably go home before Remus gets too impatient.” 

“I’m sure he’s not even aware of the passage of time.” 

“But it’s still getting late, and Logan could be home soon.” 

“Right. Yeah. And it would be absolutely... dreadful... for him to find you in this position.” Ethan’s breath was warm on Patton’s lips. 

“Ethan, please.” Ethan blinked, as if to snap himself out of a daze. He took a step back. 

“I’m so sorry, Patton. I have no idea what came over me.” _Yes, he did_ , but Patton didn’t need to know that. “I guess it really did feel like we were a happy family again. I’ll understand if you don’t want to see me again.” 

“No, I would. As friends.” 

“Not just for the boys’ happiness?” 

“We’re friends now, I’d say, Ethan. It’s going to take a lot more than some accidentally-resurfaced sexual tension to lose that.” 

“Sexual tension?” 

“Was that not what it was?” 

“You felt it, too?” 

“We felt like a happy family tonight. But now you must go. Logan will be home soon and I’ve kept you late enough.” 

“I’ve kept myself here. You’re pleasant company. Our house is so quiet.” 

“I’m sorry, but you can’t stay. I can’t imagine what Logan would say.” 

“I get it.” Ethan took another step back. His heart hurt slightly. “Goodnight, Patton. Enjoy your weekend.” 

“Goodnight, Ethan. I’ll see you later.” Patton gave Ethan a small smile. He watched as the man got into his car. He didn’t go back inside until the car pulled out of the parking lot. 

He entered the house to see Virgil and Roman sitting at the table expectantly. It had been cleared of all dishes, which were replaced by the plate of doughnuts at the center and a napkin at each of four places at the table. “Logan isn’t home yet,” Patton told them. “Ethan and I were simply doing a bit more catching up, away from prying ears.” Virgil wondered if that meant his father’s plan was going well. To him, it seemed to be. 

Virgil wouldn’t let himself worry about it. He would wait with the rest of his second family for Logan’s return, so he could finally taste the doughnuts that smelled and looked so tempting. 

*** 

“Logan, this can’t happen again,” Patton said softly to his husband that night. They lay in bed next to each other, bodies touching, hands holding tight. “It felt too much like the past. I didn’t have you anchoring me to the present. Not as much as I needed you to be.” 

“What does that mean?” Logan asked. Neither of the men were angry or upset or hurt. Patton was trying to be honest, and Logan was simply curious. 

“It means that our dinner felt like a family dinner from before Ethan started working all the time, before we got divorced. I had the thought of you to keep me from doing anything I might regret, but...” 

“‘But...?’” 

“We talked for a little bit, after, and we were both caught up in that familiar feeling of the past. And...” Patton took a deep breath. If Logan was being honest, he was terrified of what Patton had to say. He could feel the doughnuts swirling in his stomach, ready to come back up at any moment as a result of his nervousness. 

“He got really close,” Patton continued. “And I didn’t push him away. It’s not his fault,” Patton was quick to assure Logan. “He wasn’t coming onto me – not intentionally. He was just caught up in those memories. Ten years is a long time, I know, but for your first love, it’s not quite enough. There might never be enough time.” 

“Did anything else happen?” 

“No. I had the thought of you to keep me from losing myself completely. But I know that if you’d been there, you would have walked him out alongside me. He wouldn’t have come closer. We wouldn’t have been inches apart, inches away from a horrible decision. 

“If you weren’t to be there again and maybe we whipped out a little wine in honor of someone’s birthday or something, more might’ve happened. Maybe, tipsy, he’d have kissed me, and I’d have kissed him back.” 

“Are you still in love with him?” 

“No, but the feelings are still buried down somewhere. He was my first love. That doesn’t just go away, no matter the abuse, no matter our ugly end.” 

“I’ll try to be around, then. I don’t have control over my clients, unfortunately. Did the two of you decide on a day for the next one?” 

“Not yet. We’ll try to work around your schedule this time.” 

“None of us had known, last time, that this would come up. It was unexpected. We can’t plan for that. I hope it doesn’t happen again, but that’s a risk we have to take. Our boys are worth every risk.” Patton nodded his agreement.

“I won’t fall back into Ethan’s arms,” Patton said.

“I know you won’t.” 

“I pinky promise I won’t.” Patton held up his pinky. Logan smiled fondly. 

“That isn’t necessary,” Logan said gently, looping their pinkies, anyway. “Now go to sleep, Pat. I appreciate your honesty. I’m not mad. You don’t have to worry about me ever being mad at you. I know you’re capable of making your own decisions. I know you’ve always got everyone’s best interests at heart.” Patton smiled, snuggling closer to Logan. 

“Goodnight, Lo.” 

“Goodnight, Patton.” Logan pressed a kiss to his husband’s forehead. “Sleep well.” 


	5. Chapter 5

The next few dinners - arranged to take place every two to four weeks - went off without a hitch, all of the intended attendees in attendance. With all of the attendees in tow, Ethan couldn’t advance on his plan there. At work, he called Patton from his office with a little more frequency, claiming to be checking in on his own schedule, checking in on Roman, verifying the date of their next dinner... Patton began to expect the calls a few times a day, and occasionally, he made his own, giving Ethan reminders of other, more family-oriented events, such as the date of the high school’s open house and the dates for Roman’s play – in case Ethan wanted to drop by one night. 

Friday night of the play, it was later decided, would be the date of the next dinner. Ethan wanted to see the play Roman had told him so enthusiastically about. He wanted to see the boy shine on a stage, where he was sure to be most comfortable and in his element. Virgil wanted to see the play as well. The night they planned for dinner once again coordinated with a night that Virgil would stay over, but Patton extended the invitation to Remus, as well. 

The play would get out later that night, Patton informed Ethan, and he was sure Ethan might like a quiet night’s rest, on his own. Remus could even stay the weekend, if Ethan wanted, so he could have some time to himself (though Patton didn’t tell him that if he took him up on this offer, he’d call their house (the number stored in their house phone because of the few times Virgil had called them from that number) and check that he wasn’t working in his free time, but actually doing something he enjoyed – whatever that was these days). 

Logan didn’t express any concerns at Patton’s insistence they could keep all three of the boys for the weekend and give Ethan the time off. Perhaps he didn’t have any. After all, the boys were surely harmless. Logan knew extending the invitation to Ethan, as well, however, could have caused trouble, but he knew that Patton knew better than to allow the snake into his life for too long at a time - no matter whether or not Logan was around to make sure Ethan didn’t try to pull anything (because Logan had a niggling suspicion that Ethan was up to something. Ethan did have a reputation amongst them, and Logan wasn’t stupid, after all). 

And finally, the night of the play arrived. Dinner was held at Patton and Logan’s house. Ethan, Virgil, and Remus arrived about ten minutes early, the boys with suitcases in tow. Ethan had agreed they could spend the _night_ , for certain. Whether or not they could spend the weekend was still up in the air. It depended on how drained Ethan felt after the play that night. 

Dinner that night was prepared by Logan, Patton, and Roman: chili con carne and cornbread. Everyone was engaged in conversation with one another. Ethan wanted to know more about the play, and Roman was glad to give a play-by-play summary, including which of his theatre mates would be playing what part. Patton wanted to know more about Remus’ day at school, if he was doing alright in his classes and staying out of trouble. Logan talked to Virgil about finding a job on campus and trying again to learn how to drive. (Logan would teach him, making sure to keep him calm, stopping when it became too much, identifying what about driving triggered Virgil’s anxiety and finding a way to debunk those fears.) Virgil said he would consider it. 

After dinner found Virgil agreeing to Logan’s offer of a driving lesson, mostly because he knew it would be good for him to learn and it wasn’t so easy to say no to Logan when he was in full serious mode. This left Ethan to drive Remus, Roman, and Patton to the high school. Remus and Roman sat in the back, sort of close quarters, and Patton sat in the passenger seat. 

Remus spent the drive to school talking to Roman about school, about theatre, about the next play. “Are you interested in trying out?” Roman asked, wondering if he would be pitted against his twin – who he felt himself becoming closer to, despite the animosity between them once, as if the bond that tied them as biological family overrode any squabbles of the past. 

“No, but maybe set design,” Remus responded. 

“You build things?” 

“No, but it involves weaponry.” 

“No, it... You can’t use the tools as weaponry, Remus. If you can’t build anything, they might not let you on. Are you taking a shop class now?” 

“No, I’m not.” 

“Are you taking any elective classes?” 

“No.” 

“Any extracurriculars?” He could hear that he sounded a bit like Logan, but this nagging just meant that he cared, just like Logan’s nagging meant that _he_ cared. 

“Virgil suggested wrestling, when it becomes the season for it.” 

“Because of your tendency for violence?” Patton, who had been talking with Ethan from the front seat, turned back to give his son a look reminiscent of Logan’s fond disappointment upon hearing his remark. “Sorry, Dad.” Patton nodded his head, accepting the apology, then turned back. 

“He’s right, though,” Remus said for Patton’s benefit. “I think that’s why Virgil suggested it. It’s better than anger management therapy. I might enjoy it. Which is why I thought I might enjoy stage design – because of slicing into things. A therapist might call it turning my anger into something constructive.” 

“Is that a dad joke, Re?” Patton asked, again turning back from the front seat. 

“Not intentionally.” This time, it was Remus who was reminiscent of Logan – though he hadn’t spent much of his childhood around him. 

*** 

Meanwhile, in Logan’s car, Virgil was still sat in the driveway. He was nervous about pulling out and potentially hitting someone or something he couldn’t see. Logan assured him that with his taillights and careful eyes, he would be able to see a figure, even as the sun was starting to come down and might get in his eyes. Plus, he had Logan’s eyes to aid him. 

It wasn’t quite enough to quell Virgil’s anxiety, but he took a deep breath, imagining the stress roll off of him, like dirt being washed away by the spray of a showerhead. He tried out his own acting chops, trying to insert himself into the mindset of someone comfortable behind the wheel, someone who wasn’t so prone to anxiety attacks. 

He was cautious as he backed out of the driveway, looking over his shoulder and going slowly. He listened to each instruction Logan gave him “Lift your foot off the gas, turn the wheel to the right, now stop, put it into drive.” Virgil successfully pulled out the driveway. Because he’d stopped learning to drive, it had been something he hadn’t done for a while. It gave him a little bit of confidence. He drove down the road. 

“I’ll be your peripheral vision, Virgil,” Logan told him. “Just focus on the road ahead of you. Watch out for any speed marker signs or pedestrians. I’ll let you know when we need to turn or if there’s anyone behind you.” Virgil nodded, slowly coasting on the road. “You do need to go faster, though. The speed limit in a residential area is thirty.” Virgil nodded again, already beginning to feel anxiety at the edges. He took another deep breath, trying to calm himself down. He pressed a little harder on the gas pedal. “Make sure to stay on the right side of the road.” 

Virgil didn’t know how long they’d been driving, but he thought he was doing well so far. His braking could use some work, Logan said, but that would come with time. Then he was approaching a stop light. He eased to a stop – still braking a little too hard – though the light was still yellow. “you can drive through a yellow light, Virgil,” Logan told him. But Virgil couldn’t hear it over the horn of the irritated driver behind him. He didn’t want to look away from the light that turned red right at that instance. He knew he never would have had enough time to make it through the intersection in that second. 

His leg started to shake as his foot held down the brake pedal. “I didn’t want to risk it,” Virgil told Logan, tears in his eyes and voice shaking. “I don’t think I would’ve made it. I would’ve had to speed through. I’m not comfortable faster than thirty right now.” 

“Sometimes drivers are rude, Virgil. It’s okay.” But to Virgil, it wasn’t. He wanted to pull over. He expressed this to Logan. “You’ll have to make it through this intersection first. Do you think you can do that?” Virgil didn’t have time to answer; he didn’t have a choice. The stoplight turned green, and the car behind him honked again as he took a deep breath to gather his bearings. Virgil’s foot slammed onto the gas pedal, his whole body shaking as silent tears cascaded down his cheeks. “Alright, Virgil, you made it. Now just turn on your right blinker and pull off to the side of the road.” Virgil did. He put the car into park and broke down crying. 

“Not every experience will be like that,” Logan told Virgil. He didn’t reach out to physically comfort him like Patton or Roman would have. “Not all drivers will have road rage. Especially not to the extent of that-” Logan had to cut himself off before saying a curse word. He felt protective over Virgil. This is how Patton must have felt about the boys, he realized. 

“You can say ‘asshole,’” Virgil responded with a halfhearted laugh, wiping the tears from his eyes with the backs of his hands. 

“I’m sorry that had to be your first driving experience.” 

“You can’t control other people. Sometimes they just do whatever they want, with no regard for the feelings of others.” 

“I can take it from here. Just ease your foot off the brake and you can switch sides with me.” Virgil nodded his agreement, wiping his eyes again and taking a deep breath. He was able to calm down easier once he was seated in the passenger seat. His body stopped shaking and his breathing evened out. 

Finally, they arrived at the school and met up with Patton, Ethan, and Remus. Roman was already backstage being made up and costumed. Virgil would have liked to see him off. He would’ve liked to bring flowers for the boy, for afterwards. That was something he thought families did for their “child stars.” but he would still enjoy the show and the time with his family. 

They all sat down, Virgil on the end, Remus to his left, then Ethan, Logan, and Patton, respectively. They talked quietly amongst themselves as they waited for the play to start. Ethan asked Virgil if everything went okay, and Remus, sat between them, couldn’t help but listen in as Virgil told their father what had happened, but also how Logan had helped. Patton and Logan held hands, resting them on the armrest between them. 

Soon enough, the lights in the auditorium dimmed, and the play began. 

*** 

When the play was over, the family had to stand around for a while, waiting as Roman greeted his friends’ families and gave his praise to his fellow actors for putting on a good show. There was one more night of the play the following evening, but many families had come that night to watch. So had many of the children that attended the high school, Remus found, spotting the heads of a few of his own friends among the crowd. 

Remus whipped out his phone to send them a quick text, telling them where he was so they could come see him, if they wanted (unless they’d rather go fawn over his brother or any of the other actors. He would understand. He wasn’t a fan of Disney, but it had been a spectacular performance. Remus was proud to be able to call Roman his brother). 

Finally, Roman rejoined his family, Remus’ friends and a few of his own, in tow. “Who’s all this?” Patton asked kindly, shaking hands with each of the children. 

“These three are my friends,” Roman said, wrapping his arms around three of the kids, one of which who was still in her full show makeup. “Eleanor was in the play with me tonight. Then our friends Arlo and Alexander, stage techs.” 

“And these three are mine,” Remus said, giving them all playful punches on the arm (and receiving one from each of his friends in return). “Adam, Jessabelle, and Ricky.” The four all had a similar fashion sense: dark clothing, a patch (or all, in the case of Jessabelle) of their hair dyed a funky color. “They didn’t tell me they’d be coming tonight.” He gave them all a pointed look. He hadn’t mentioned to them that _he’d_ be coming, either, but they’d seemed to all mention to each other that they would be. 

“We didn’t think it’d be your scene, Rem,” Jessabelle told him, placing a hand on his shoulder. “Maybe if it had involved more fighting than romance...” 

“I came tonight to support my twin. You two know Roman.” Remus gestured at his brother, who a couple random girls had come to fawn over. 

“Of course. Well, we should leave you all to celebrate.” 

“There’s one more night of performances,” Logan spoke up. Remus had forgotten he was there. “Tonight isn’t traditionally the night of celebration.” 

“But could it be?” Roman asked, eyes lighting up with hope. He’d managed to rid himself of his little fanclub quite quickly. “We’ve got the whole family together, plus I’m sure our friends would be all for a celebration. Tomorrow night is the cast party, anyway.” 

“And you think you’ll be allowed to go to the cast party?” Logan asked. 

“I assumed Dad might let me. Is that not okay with you, Father?” 

“I would have appreciated more than a day’s notice in advance, that’s all. You know how I feel about last-minute plans, Roman.” 

“My apologies, Father. We didn’t find out until earlier this week, and of course, it was tech week. By the time each day was over, I had homework to do then I completely crashed.” 

“If Ethan is alright with it, then perhaps we – and all your friends – can go have ice cream or something to celebrate.” Roman turned a pair of puppy dog eyes on Ethan. Remus wasn’t the type to beg for what he wanted. Especially not from his father, who wasn’t so easy to pull one over on. 

“I’d really like to go on home,” Ethan said, not falling for Roman’s puppy dog eyes – nor giving in when the boy’s face fell. “But Patton, Logan, I’m sure you can fit all three boys in your car. They’re spending the weekend with you, anyway.” 

“You agree to that?” Virgil asked his father, now hopeful himself. Roman’s face lit up again. He was already rushing off with his friends to go find their families and ask them for permission. 

“If Logan and Patton are alright with it.” 

“We’d be delighted,” Patton said. “And we most certainly _can_ fit all the boys in our car. Go home and enjoy the rest of your evening, Ethan.” 

“Thank you.” 

“Thanks, Dad,” Remus said. 

“I’ll see you boys Sunday evening.” If any of the Lees had been the type, perhaps they would have hugged their goodbyes, or Virgil and Remus would have hugged their father in joyful gratitude. Instead, they simply waved as he made his way through the crowd of high schoolers and out of the auditorium. 

“Remus, the invitation for ice cream extends to your friends, as well,” Patton told the group of four. 

“I don’t think...” Jessabelle began, looking to Adam and Ricky. 

“I can pay for you, if that’s the problem,” Remus told Jessabelle. 

“It’s just that it’s late, and my parents...” 

“We can go ask them. They can’t be any stricter than my father, and you saw how easily he relented.” 

“Because this is your second family.” 

“And I’m your friend.” 

“I guess we can try...” Remus nodded his agreement, then looked toward Adam and Ricky for their own answers. 

“I’d never pass up ice cream,” Ricky said. “And I’ll go take care of convincing Adam’s parents.” 

“They won’t need much...” Adam began, already being pulled away from the group, Ricky’s grasp on his arm tight enough to bruise. Remus walked off with Jessabelle, leaving Patton, Logan, and Virgil alone. 

“You’re sure you don’t mind this large social gathering?” Patton asked his husband. He’d seemed to forget that Virgil was still standing beside them, that Virgil wasn’t a high schooler who had his own group of friends somewhere out in the crowd. 

“Roman deserves a celebration. And I imagine you’d like to get to know Remus’ friends a little better.” 

“I would, yes.” At that moment, Roman came back, his three friends and their respective families in tow. The parents all introduced themselves, shaking hands. Patton and Logan hadn’t met any of them beforehand, though they knew Roman had been friends with them since high school started. They didn’t know what had happened to the boy’s friends from elementary and middle school. Perhaps they’d drifted apart, aided by Roman’s love for theatre and all of its time-consumption. 

Soon after, Remus returned with Jessabelle and her parents, along with Ricky and Adam (neither of whom was accompanied by their parents). “Ricky and Adam’s parents gave the okay,” Remus told Patton and Logan. The boys had told him such when they’d met up with him as he walked Jessabelle’s parents toward his “family.” Patton and Logan introduced themselves as Remus’ stepfathers (sure that Remus must have told his friends about his single father and maybe his father’s ex-husband). 

“You’re not who I was expecting,” Jessabelle’s father said, lip curling in what was probably disgust. 

“My father left already,” Remus told them. “But he trusts me in the care of his ex-husband and _his_ husband.” 

“They’re close still?” 

“Not all marriages end poorly. Some couples find that they just have different goals in life,” Patton found himself saying. And that certainly applied to his situation, didn’t it? Ethan had wanted to be a working man, but Patton had wanted to be a family man (and yet, it was Ethan who had ended up with two of the three children). “Such is the case with myself and Ethan. Plus, we didn’t want the twins to grow up hating each other.” Though that’s how it’d gone for the past decade. 

Roman looked up, sensing he was being cued by the remark. Jessabelle’s parents looked between the boys, almost immediately recognizing that they were twins. “And why should we trust you to take our daughter out for ice cream?” Jessabelle’s father asked. 

“You two are welcome to come along. In fact, we encourage it. Our car only has room for our three boys, I’m afraid.” 

“Three?” Virgil looked up, then, through his lashes. “This shy boy is your son, as well?” 

“We’re all adopted,” Virgil spoke softly. “I’m the eldest.” 

“So, what do you say?” Remus asked, providing Virgil an out. The boy gratefully took it, whispering something to Logan. There was a faint jingle as the keys to Logan’s car changed hands. Then Virgil was walking out, leaving the families to resolve everything on their own. 

Virgil found their car in the crowded parking lot and unlocked it, crawling into the backseat of the car and shutting his eyes. He listened and waited for his family to come join him, hoping, for his brother’s sake, that the girl with the strict and nosy parents would be allowed to come along. 

He didn’t want to go out for ice cream with such a large group, but he wanted both of his younger brothers to be happy. Even though Roman was the star of the night, it would be good for Remus to form this happy memory with his friends and second family. Maybe it would truly help him to let go of the grudge Ethan had bred in him, help him to continue to go along with the plan so nights like this could happen often, but with _their_ father included, as well.


	6. Chapter 6

The next dinner was a few days before Thanksgiving. Or it had been scheduled to be, before everything fell apart. The plan was that the family would all have dinner together at Ethan’s, then Virgil could lock himself in his room and watch The Nightmare Before Christmas and other Disney movies, while Roman and Remus went out with their friends for a friendsgiving dinner – or whatever it was that teenagers were doing nowadays. The adults could have a small Thanksgiving “party” of their own if they wanted – scary movies (though Patton would be hiding himself in Logan’s shoulder the whole time, undoubtedly, while Logan tried to debunk all of the frightening occurrences (“The blood is just corn syrup,” “those are only mannequins,” and so on)), popcorn, and maybe a bit of wine, if they were feeling up for it. 

A few days before the dinner was supposed to occur, however, Virgil found himself swamped with a couple of exams to study for. He’d asked his father and the Sanders if he could go over to Patton’s for the night and study. He would have loved to be a part of the dinner, he made sure they knew, but school had to come first, and he was terrified of failing his exams and failing college and not being successful in life... So they agreed. Logan assured Virgil that he would only be a phone call away if the boy needed anything. 

Additionally, Remus and Roman found themselves with invitations to a high school before-break costume party hosted by some senior cheerleader who had once dabbled among both their crowds. Ethan allowed Remus to go, spending the night at one of his friends’ houses after, as long as the boy agreed to leave as soon as alcohol was introduced – or at least not get too drunk. Ethan knew he couldn’t control too much of his son’s life. Virgil had opened the door to rebellion, after all, and what was to stop Remus from fully immersing himself in the stereotypical high school party experience? 

Logan, on the other hand, had been extremely reluctant to let Roman go. After all, he figured there would be alcohol and no adult supervision, and that wasn’t the kind of environment he wanted Roman in. And, if Roman didn’t attend the dinner, it would just be the adults at the table, which wasn’t the point of the dinners. 

It took some convincing from Patton for Logan to finally agree. Patton assured Logan that Roman wouldn’t have any alcohol, he’d call as soon as anything got out of hand. He had Roman pinky swear on it (and of course, pinky swears were legal and binding). Plus, if Roman were the only kid at the dinner, he would feel out of place. Maybe it was better that the adults got the chance to catch up. Maybe such a night would fully instill in Logan trust in Ethan – or do the complete opposite. 

Except, at the last minute, Logan had another work dinner he had to attend. He had another client’s family member who could only meet on that night, because it was the only night they could get a babysitter (the two elder siblings were back home from college for Thanksgiving break, so they could take care of their younger siblings). Logan had found out through Patton, who had had to forward the message to him from the client, because Logan had been in a meeting when they'd called. Logan had wanted to shut down the dinner right then, but it was already the day of. Patton had to tell him that he would go through with it. He couldn’t tell Ethan hours before that they were no longer going to be having dinner. That could be too stressful, as he tried to juggle clients, because he’d now have to figure out something else to do for dinner, something smaller than whatever he’d originally planned and then had to alter as more people dropped out of the dinner. 

Logan remembered what had happened the last time he’d had to have dinner with a client instead of with his family, and he knew that, without the kids and without him, the dinner could even further derail. He tried to get Patton to see how risky it was, but Patton had always put other people first. He didn’t want to inconvenience Ethan by telling him that the dinner would have to be postponed because Logan couldn’t come along (and why couldn’t Patton come without Logan? Logan wasn’t his keeper. They could have dinner as friends, if not as a whole family, Ethan might say). Patton was stubborn when he wanted to be, and finally, Logan had to relent. He had “more pressing matters” to attend to. Patton had to admit that hearing that stung a little. To him, it was almost as if Logan was putting his work before their family – because these dinners were supposed to be about family, after all. 

Patton left work with Ethan that night, because Logan had to gather up the proper paperwork before his dinner with his client and couldn’t drop Patton off at their house to grab his car. All three of the boys were at Ethan’s when the two men arrived. 

“Virgil, I thought you were going to mine?” Patton asked the boy. 

“I was, but I’d been relying on Roman to let me in, and he texted me to say that he came here to help Remus with his costume for the party,” Virgil answered. 

“Roman, where’s _your_ costume?” 

“At home still. I told V that as soon as I put the finishing touches on Rem’s makeup-” Remus was already in costume, “-we could go back to ours and I’d let Virgil in and assemble my costume.” 

“How did you plan on getting home?” 

“Virgil said he could drive us.” 

“Absolutely not!” Ethan spoke up. Patton flinched at the anger in his tone. Ethan didn’t fail to notice. “I’m sorry,” he said, his voice lowered, suddenly more gentle. “Vee, you don’t even have your permit yet. I don’t feel comfortable with you breaking the law.” 

“I’m old enough to be licensed,” Virgil explained. “I figured that if I drove carefully enough – and it’s only a few minute drive – I wouldn’t arouse any suspicion in any cop that just so _happened_ to be on the lookout for lawbreakers.” 

“And the thought of you breaking the law doesn’t make you feel anxious _at all_?” 

“Well, I mean-” Virgil suddenly seemed to hesitate. It suddenly seemed to hit him what exactly the plan he had concocted entailed. “They’re my younger brothers. I wanted to do something nice for them. There was no other way, after all, since you weren’t home yet.” 

“Well, I’m home now. Roman, go ahead and finish up, and Patton and I can take you all there.” Roman nodded, biting his lip in concentration as he put the finishing touches on Remus’ gore makeup. It was silent and a bit tense. Virgil suddenly felt anxious, worried that he’d upset his father, and Patton felt awkward that he’d had to witness what should have been a private argument. 

Finally, Roman was finished. He gathered up his makeup supplies (which he’d thought to bring to school but not his costume? Patton didn’t quite know what to think about that. He didn’t know what Logan would have thought about that) and followed Ethan out to the car. Following Roman was Remus, then Virgil (armed with his textbooks and notebooks), and Patton at the back of the line. 

The drive to Patton’s house was less awkward, as the younger boys spoke in excited whispers about the party they would be attending that night, reviewing the plan they’d made to get a ride there and where they would stay once the party was over. Virgil, in the backseat with the boys, felt excluded. To him, the brothers seemed thick as thieves, as if one hadn’t spent a whole decade hating the other. He supposed that this was what it might have been like if they’d all grown up together, just that Virgil would be more used to it by now. 

When they arrived at Patton’s house, the adults wished their children farewell, making sure they all promised to call if they needed anything. Patton gave Virgil a rundown of what was in the fridge that he could have for dinner, told him that if the boys got hungry before the party, he could make dinner for the three of them, that perhaps that would be best, because there might not be any “food of substance,” as Logan would have called it, at the party. The adults waited for the boys to go inside the house before they drove back to Ethan’s. 

With just the two of them in the car, they were able to talk about Ethan’s work and how he was doing, and Patton could tell him that Logan had been occupied with work again. And, as they walked back into Ethan’s house and started preparing the dinner the man had originally planned to make, Patton found himself confiding in Ethan that it had hurt when Logan had finally agreed, a bit tersely, that the dinner continue on because he didn’t want to keep bickering about it when he had “more pressing matters” to attend to. Patton found himself confiding in Ethan that it felt like he was being blown off for work, just like Ethan had done to Patton so many times ten years earlier. 

Ethan apologized for his previous actions. He told Patton that he would help him feel better however he could. They made dinner together, and Ethan pulled out a bottle of wine – “to make things fancy, and to make things easier to forget for a while.” Patton was reluctant at first, remembering what he’d told Logan last time, but once he and Ethan sat down at the table for dinner, on opposite ends, just the two of them, Patton started to feel lonely, and he agreed to a glass of wine. 

Ethan tried to find conversation topics that wouldn’t make Patton think about his family or the past. He tried to think of topics that might cheer Patton up. He suggested that, instead of the horror movie marathon that was originally planned, they could watch the Disney movies that Virgil had originally planned to. They could break out popcorn and some mini chocolate bars leftover from Halloween and/or some ice cream, and enjoy the movies and the food and the wine and the night spent together as friends. Patton could never say no to sweet foods, so he agreed. Plus, he’d downed his first glass of wine pretty quickly, trying to block out the sadness he felt, trying to press it all back down. 

Ethan poured him another glass, but told him not to drink that one so fast this time. He made sure Patton knew that he was being cared about, looked out for. 

When they finished dinner, they washed the dishes together, then grabbed all the junk food from the cupboards (and the ice cream from the freezer), plus the bottle of wine and their wine glasses. (Patton was half done with his second glass, and Ethan had finished his first glass moments before he’d taken his last bite of dinner.) They settled down on the couch, one couch cushion’s worth of space between them, where all the snacks sat. The wine bottle and wine glasses sat on the little coffee table in front of the couch. 

They first watched The Nightmare Before Christmas. Patton couldn’t help but sing along to some of the more popular songs, especially once he’d finished his second glass of wine. Ethan couldn’t help but admire the pink flush of Patton’s cheeks from the alcohol and the loud singing, and how his hair fell into his eyes as he bobbed his head. He couldn’t help but scoot a little closer to Patton. 

By the time they finished The Nightmare Before Christmas and moved on to Alice in Wonderland, they had half a couch cushion’s worth of space between them. Patton was halfway through a third glass of wine, and Ethan had finished a second. Both men were, admittedly, a little tipsy. The snacks didn’t seem to be doing much to combat the effects of the alcohol. 

By the time they finished Alice in Wonderland, their legs were touching and the snacks were set aside. They didn’t plan to eat or drink any more as they watched Alice Through the Looking Glass. It was pretty late by the time they started that movie, though, and the alcohol was starting to wear off in place of sleepiness – at least in Patton. 

As the movie started, he laid his head on Ethan’s shoulder, and Ethan’s head fell naturally on top of his, an arm wrapping around the man. Their feet tangled where they sat on the ground. Both men yawned. Ethan couldn’t deny how cute Patton was that close, couldn’t deny how much he still loved him. 

The movie was mostly ignored for this snuggling and a whispered conversation. 

“How are you, Pat?” Ethan asked. 

“I feel better,” Patton responded. “Thank you. This has been a wonderful night.” 

“I’m glad I could help.” 

“You’re wonderful.” 

“So are you.” Ethan lifted his head as he said it. Patton looked at him then. He could see, in Ethan’s eyes, how much the man really meant what he said. “I’m glad you’ve given me the chance to start over. I don’t know how I survived for so long without you.” Ethan was leaning his head closer to Patton’s. Their lips were inches apart, and Patton could feel Ethan’s breath warm on his lips. 

“I’m glad you don’t hate me anymore.” Patton’s voice sounded sad again. 

“I could never hate you.” Ethan closed the distance, pressing his lips to Patton’s. Patton was frozen for a moment, but the remaining alcohol in his system must have loosened his lips and had him kissing Ethan back. They pulled away after a minute or two, breathless, cheeks flushed. Patton bit his lip. The rational part of his brain – not clouded by alcohol – was telling him that he’d fucked up. His mind began to war with itself. He wanted more wine to drown it out. Ethan’s lips, tasting like both wine and chocolate, were the next best thing, so Patton kissed Ethan, this time. 

Ethan deepened the kiss, leaning over Patton and slipping his tongue into the man’s mouth. Patton pulled away, then, the rational part of his mind screaming at him to stop this instance because he was destroying his marriage and his life and Roman and Logan’s lives. 

“Ethan, I-” Patton breathed out. Ethan looked at him, concerned, as if he wasn’t thinking about how the skin of Patton’s neck would taste and desperate to find out. “We can’t. I have a husband.” 

“And where is he now?” Ethan asked, also breathless. He couldn’t help the bitter edge that entered his tone of voice. “It’s midnight, and he still isn’t home.” 

“He’s out working. And this isn’t his home to come back to.” 

“This is a little late for someone to be out working, don’t you think? Dinner would have ended _hours_ ago. Maybe he really _is_ putting work before you. And that’s not good of a husband to do. Any husband who does is stupid. Any husband who could upset their partner so much is stupid.” Ethan knew he was sounding hypocritical, but he was also, in this speech, acknowledging that he’d fucked up ten years earlier. He wanted to show Patton that, if he had another chance, he wouldn’t fuck it up again, that it was _Logan_ who was fucking up this time. 

“This is just one instance. He’s never done it before, I’m sure it won’t happen again.” Neither man had moved from their position yet. “Thank you for helping cheer me up, Ethan, but you’ve stepped out of line.” 

“You didn’t seem to think so a few minutes ago.” 

“Ethan, please.” Ethan got up, allowing Patton to sit up. “I may not be one-hundred percent sober, but I can acknowledge when I’ve messed up. I never should have kissed you.” 

“Some part of you must still be in love with me.” 

“Of course it is. But I don’t want to destroy my marriage. I can’t hurt my family like that.” 

“What about hurting _me_?” Patton sighed. 

“Goodnight, Ethan.” Patton stood from the couch. 

“You don’t have a car here.” 

“I don’t care. I can’t stay here.” 

“Pat-” 

“We can discuss things like adults tomorrow, when we’re both sober and we’ve realized the weight of what we’ve just done.” Patton walked out of the house. He called Remy, praying that the man wasn’t sleeping yet, to ask him to come pick him up. He didn’t think he could face Logan like this. 

He was picked up about ten minutes later. He greeted Remy and Emile and their young daughter (still awake and buzzing from a sugar high, for whatever reason) when he arrived at their house. He was set up on the couch, and he fell asleep shortly after. 

Remy and Emile didn’t ask what was wrong, figuring Patton would tell them the next morning or on his own terms. 

*** 

"So, why am I picking you up from Remy and Emile’s this morning?” Logan asked once Patton had settled in the passenger seat of the car and prompted Logan to drive off. 

“Why didn’t you ever show up last night?” Patton countered. 

“It was past dinnertime once I finished with my client and finalized the case file.” 

“You could have at least come to watch the movies with us. Or to pick me up.” 

“I didn’t want to interrupt.” 

“You could never interrupt.” 

“I could have, and I would have, so I didn’t.” The car was silent and tense for a moment before Patton spoke again. 

“I have to make a phone call when we get home.” Logan nodded. He couldn’t help the feeling in his gut like he’d messed up somehow. When the two men got home and Patton locked himself in Roman’s room to make the phone call, Logan couldn’t help but listen in – though he could only hear Patton’s side of the call. 

“Of course I made it home safe. I had Remy come pick me up.” Patton told the person on the other end. “No, not anymore. They moved closer a few years ago, after they adopted their daughter. No, I didn’t tell them. No, Logan doesn’t know. But I _am_ going to have to tell him.” Logan, on the other side of the wall, was worried about what that could mean. _What happened last night?_ “Because we messed up, Ethan! I’m not blaming the alcohol!” _That_ definitely _didn’t sound good._ Logan suddenly remembered what Patton had told him the last time Logan had to skip on the family dinner for work: 

_“‘If you weren’t to be there again and maybe we whipped out a little wine in honor of someone’s birthday or something, more might’ve happened. Maybe, tipsy, he’d have kissed me, and I’d have kissed him back.’”_

And instantly, Logan knew what had transpired last night. He left his own room and walked to Roman’s, missing anything Patton said in the few seconds it took him to travel that distance. He knocked on the door. 

“I suppose that’s Logan,” Patton told Ethan. “I should go. _Don’t_ , Ethan. No, I’m not. Good _bye_ , Ethan.” Patton sighed, then took a deep breath. He opened Roman’s bedroom door. Patton was sure that Logan knew what he’d done, and he crumbled, bursting into tears as he sank to the floor. Logan crouched down next to him, wrapping him in his arms. He comforted his husband the best he could, until he’d calmed down enough to talk. 

“You know, don’t you?” Patton asked after a while, looking up at Logan and wiping the tears from his eyes and face. He needed to hear him say it. He needed to know how Logan felt about it. 

“I know,” Logan responded simply. 

“And you’re not mad?” 

“I want you to tell me what happened, before I make a decision on that.” So Patton did, telling Logan everything that happened from the moment he'd stepped inside Ethan’s house for the first time that afternoon. He left none of the details out. He made sure Logan knew that he’d kissed Ethan back, then that he’d kissed Ethan. He made sure Logan knew that he had eventually come to his senses, full of regret. He made sure Logan knew that he wouldn’t hate him if he hated him and wanted a divorce or to see a marriage counselor, or for him to never see Ethan again. 

“Is he acknowledging that he made a mistake?” Logan asked once Patton finished the story. 

“He’s blaming the alcohol. But he didn’t drink as much as I did. _I_ could blame it on the alcohol, but I’m choosing to own up to my mistakes.” 

“And he wants you to get back together with him?” 

“Even sober, he wanted to tell me he loves me.” 

“You have to go talk to him in person. Just you.” 

“But he’ll just try to-” 

“You won’t let him.” Logan’s eyes widened with a realization. “Perhaps that’s all this was.” Patton looked at him, an eyebrow raised in confusion. He waited for Logan to explain. 

“What is it?” Patton finally asked, cueing Logan to tell him his epiphany. 

“Maybe he’d been trying to get you alone all along.” 

“He never could have known that any of this would happen.” 

“But he’d started the dinners so we could trust him. You trusted him enough to believe that he wouldn’t pull the same stunt he did last time the two of you were alone. And I trust you, even if sometimes, perhaps I shouldn’t.” 

“So you _are_ mad at me, then.” 

“Not mad. Just disappointed.” And for some reason, that felt even worse to Patton. “You fell right into his trap again, and I wasn’t there to stop it. He agreed so easily to getting his own boys away, prompting you to do the same with Roman.” 

“But he didn’t know you’d be called away to work.” 

“No, he didn’t. At least as far as I’m aware.” 

“He doesn’t have the authority to talk to your clients.” 

“No, he doesn’t. But if he really wanted you, would anything stop him?” 

“We could report him to the firm head, get him fired.” 

“Maybe. But you need to talk to him first. You have to cut him out of your life again, Patton.” 

“But what about the boys?” 

“Maybe Virgil and Remus knew all along.” 

“You don’t think...?” 

“I wouldn’t put it past him. And I can’t imagine either of the boys would dare disobey their father’s wishes after the harsh punishment Virgil received for running away from home.” 

“So I have to go talk to him. Cut him out of my life for good.” 

“Yes. Surely you can see, especially now, that he’s never been good for you, that he’s not afraid to lie his way to what he wants, no matter the consequences. He’s selfish. Manipulative. You can’t trust him anymore. He hasn’t really changed.” 

“And what about you and me?” 

“You and _I_ ,” Logan corrected gently. “And I don’t think there’s anything that needs to be done.” 

“You don’t want to leave me?” 

“You made a mistake, but I know you won’t repeat it. I trust you, Patton.” 

“Even after I committed adulthood?” Logan sighed. 

“That’s not- It's... adultery. But yes, even then. Because you’ve acknowledged your mistake and I know you won’t repeat it. I know you care too much about our family to break it apart. I know you’ll do anything to keep it together, and so will I. It would take a lot more than this for you to lose me.” 

“ _Is_ there anything more than this?” 

“I don’t want to find out. Let’s not worry about it. Let’s just worry about setting up a meeting with Ethan, just the two of you. This is something you have to do on your own, I’m afraid.” 

“Okay. But can it wait? I just need some time to process it still, I guess. And I have to tell Remy and Emile why I called them at midnight last night.” 

“Of course. Take as long as you need. But not too long.” Logan added on the last sentence quickly. “I’ll be in our room.” Patton nodded, then sighed. He watched Logan stand up and walk out, closing the door behind him so Patton could have some privacy. 

Patton dialed Remy’s number and called him, prepared to explain to him and Emile everything that had happened since Ethan’s re-entry in his life to now. 

*** 

A week later found Virgil and Remus at the Sanders’ house. It wasn’t a dinner night, but Patton needed to talk to them. He wanted to explain to them what would be going down soon enough. Again, he was having to break the bad news to his boys, tell them that he was going to be splitting them apart. 

He sat between them on the living room couch – Roman also there, next to Remus – and explained what had happened on the night of the dinner. He explained how he felt and how it appeared that Ethan felt. He told them of Logan’s suspicions and the conversation Logan would make sure that Patton had with Ethan. And finally, he asked Ethan’s sons the important question: “Did you know?” 

Virgil and Remus shared a look with one another. Virgil’s hands began to shake from inside the pockets of his hoodie “You did, didn’t you?” Patton asked. He didn’t sound angry, but still, Virgil was scared. Roman looked between both of his brothers, feeling a sense of betrayal and mistrust. Virgil took a deep, shaky breath. 

“We knew,” he finally said, his voice shaking, when it was clear that Remus wasn’t going to respond. “Not the specifics, but we knew what he was planning.” 

“Why didn’t you say anything?” 

“It’s not exactly our place, is it?” 

“Your father was trying to break up a marriage!” Roman burst out. He felt shocked and betrayed. “He was trying to ruin our lives!” 

“He was trying to get our original family back. All of us, without Logan, happy like we were a decade ago.” 

“We weren’t happy! Ethan abandoned us for his stupid job!” Patton reached over Remus to place a gentle hand on Roman’s knee. Roman stood up abruptly, shaking it off. “One plan wouldn’t fix a _decade_ of mistakes!” 

“He was our father! He just wanted our family back!” Virgil retorted, also standing, meeting Roman’s eyes. 

“He was _never_ my family!” Roman said the word ‘never’ as if he were growling it out. “I never got to know him. I don’t remember when we were the _happy little family_ you think we were.” 

“We’ve been happy together, haven’t we?” Remus asked, standing up to join the conversation. He sounded hurt, as if the happy memories he had so recently built with Roman were being ripped to shreds because of Roman’s angry words. 

“Our brotherhood was built on lies! You _lied_ to me, Rem.” Roman wiped tears from his eyes. “You both lied to me, and to Dad, and to Father. We wanted to be your second family, and you just wanted to usurp Father.” 

“It wasn’t like that,” Virgil tried. 

“That’s _exactly_ what it was like! And you never cared that you might hurt anyone. Don’t you see how _wrong_ that is?!” Patton sat on the couch, watching the whole exchange. He didn’t know what to say. He didn’t know if there was anything he _could_ say. “Dad thought he’d changed, Father thought he’d changed, but it was all just another little _deceit_ fulscheme and you two were in on it. Get out of my house.” 

“Roman, you don’t get to make that call,” Patton spoke up. His words were to Roman’s back, however, because the boy had stormed out of the living room and down the hallway toward his bedroom. Patton turned to Virgil and Remus. 

“Why didn’t you try to reason with your father?” Patton asked. “Especially you, Virgil. You knew how happy my family was.” 

“I wanted that happiness with all of us,” Virgil responded. “And at these dinners, we had it. I remember when we were all a family, and the eight-year-old in me wanted that life back. I didn’t see anything wrong with not speaking up about my father’s plan.” 

“Did you help him with it?” 

“I never needed to. He had everything planned out.” 

“And ‘friendsgiving’ was just a bunch of coincidences?” 

“I-” Virgil sighed, a lie at the tip of his tongue. But he didn’t want to lie to Patton any longer. It was lies that tore his family apart for a second time, now. “No. Remus and Roman’s invitations to the party were genuine, but Remus got his first and told our father. Remus made sure that Roman got one, as well. My father helped me concoct an excuse to also pass on the dinner.” 

“And Logan?” 

“Also fabricated. Dad snuck into Logan’s files you keep in your desk, late one night, and called the client and set it up, insisting that that night was the only night Logan had available and making sure the client stated the same sentiments – even if they weren’t necessarily true. A little money goes a long way, you know.” 

“That makes you sound like him. That’s manipulation, you know that, right?” 

“I didn’t see it that way at the time. I’m only starting to see it now that I see the damage we’ve caused your family. We had our own selfish wants, and we did anything we could to get them. I know that makes us like our father. I’m sorry we’ve put you through this. I know what it’s like to be on the receiving end of manipulation. 

“I’ll just go back home and let my father know that you’ll be wanting to speak with him soon.” 

“He knows. But I think both of you leaving would be best. You’ll have to understand if we don’t invite any of you back.” 

“Ever!” Roman shouted from his bedroom. Virgil cast a sad look in that direction, then back at Patton. 

“I figured as much,” Virgil said, a tear slipping down his cheek. “Come on, Remus.” Remus and Virgil walked toward the front door. 

“Did you at least _start_ to like us?” Patton asked Remus, before the boys could step outside. They stopped in their tracks. Remus turned back to face Patton. 

“I did. And the vision of a happy family became worth fighting for.” Patton smiled sadly. After waiting for a moment – to see if Patton had anything else to ask – Remus turned around, and the two boys stepped out of the house, the door shutting softly behind them. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fluff? Barely knew her.  
> Come cry at me in the comments if you must.


	7. Chapter 7

There was a soft knock on the front door. Ethan, working in his bedroom, almost didn’t hear it. He thought it was a figment of his imagination. But then it came again, louder, as if the person on the other side had taken a deep breath and steeled themselves, filling themselves with confidence in whatever their mission was. When the knock came a third time – again, a little louder than before – Ethan knew he couldn’t ignore it. Whoever it was didn’t plan to go away; they knew he was home. 

He capped his pen and set it down on top of his paperwork, the point of the pen aligned with the line at which he had stopped reading. The knock sounded a fourth time as he made his way down the hallway and towards the front door. “I’m coming!” he called out, not bothering to hide his irritation. Then he reached the front door. He pulled it open, again not hiding the irritation in his voice as he asked, “Can I help you?” 

A moment later, his brain connected who was at the other side of the door. It wasn’t someone preaching about the Lord or asking for donations. It was Patton. And he looked crestfallen at being greeted by Ethan’s irritation. Ethan’s expression changed to sympathy and sadness. “I’m sorry, Patton. I was in the midst of my work, and I thought you might’ve been a door-to-door salesman,” Ethan explained. “Come in.” 

Ethan stepped aside, and Patton took a cautious step inside the man’s house. Ethan closed the door as Patton sat down on the couch. “Virgil said he was studying at the library and that Remus was out with his friends,” Patton explained. “I thought I might take advantage of this time to come talk to you.” 

“You’re still talking to my son?” 

“I’m not the one in the wrong. I know what you were trying to do. He told me everything.” 

“I'm afraid I don’t know what you mean.” 

“You can’t feign cluelessness. Logan figured it out and Virgil and Remus confirmed it.” 

“You talked to both of them?” 

“They needed to know how I felt. They needed to understand the immorality of their behavior. They needed to understand why I’d be tearing apart our family.” Reluctantly and sadly, Patton added, “Again.” 

“Is this what you needed to talk to me about?” 

“I wanted to explain to you what I thought about the stunt you tried to pull.” 

“You obviously don’t approve. I think you’ve made that clear.” 

“I _don’t_ approve, because I’m _married_. I told you so, and you intruded on my boundaries. You manipulated my family so we would trust you. You involved your sons in your scheming, encouraging that kind of behavior - just like you once encouraged Remus’ violent tendencies.” 

“I _never_ -” 

“Maybe we were becoming a family again, but it was a family built on lies. I can’t allow that toxicity in mine or Roman’s lives again.” 

“So you’re going to skip town again?” 

“No. I’m not leaving.” 

“So you want _me_ to leave? And what about _my_ sons?” 

“No one has to leave, but you also can’t try to slot yourselves into our lives again.” 

“Patton, I can’t just forget about you. I-” 

“Stop.” Patton cut Ethan off before he had the chance to say Those Three Words. 

“After everything, you can’t tell me that you hate me.” 

“I-” Patton sighed. He ran a hand through his hair before speaking again. “Of course I can’t. But I should. Hate you, I mean.” 

“So then you share my feelings?” 

“Ethan, stop.” Patton’s voice sounded choked back, as if he was holding back tears. “ _Please_. You’re not listening to me. Whatever you’re feeling for me, it can’t possibly be real. Not now.” 

“If it was so fake, would I have concocted a whole plan to get you back?” 

“So you admit it?” 

“ _Yes,_ okay? Does that make you happy?” 

“It just really lets it sink in how bad you are for me. I wanted to see the best in you, but you haven’t changed in ten years. Logan was right ten years ago, and he was right now. But this time, _I’m_ the one standing up to you. 

“Logan spoke for me last time, because I was too broken and hurt and betrayed to speak for myself. I’d been silenced for too long. But not this time. This time, I can speak for myself. 

“I can tell you that you can’t be a part of mine or Roman’s lives anymore. I can tell you that while I certainly loved you once, I’ve seen the man you are, and I can’t love someone like that. I love _Logan_. I’m happy with the family I’ve made with him. I’m happier without you trying to destroy my life. 

“So I’m going to leave this house, and you’re going to leave us alone. I don’t want to go to court against you again-” 

“-Because you know I’ll win,” Ethan interrupted. 

“You _lost_ , last time. And you will again.” Patton’s voice had a hint of anger in it. “So don’t even try. Don’t try anything else. You won’t win me back. You won’t turn my son against me.” 

“So what you’re telling me is I never stood a chance, did I?” 

“That’s the sad part – you did once. Ten years ago. If you’d asked for forgiveness, I’d have rushed back into your arms. But it’s been too much time since then. I’ve smartened up since then. I’ve realized that I deserve better. 

“I loved you once. So passionately that I was willing to overlook any of your flaws. For so long, I fought Logan about it. I insisted that he was wrong, that I knew the man I’d married. But I never knew you. Not the real you. Only the mask you put on for the rest of the world, when typically, those masks come down for significant others.” 

“You wouldn’t have stayed if you knew the real me,” Ethan said sadly. 

“Of course not.” If Patton were a cruel person, he would have laughed. “And now that I know, I’m not going to. You’ve blown this chance at seeing Roman, at coming back into his life as a third father. You’ve blown this chance at a friendship with me. 

“I’m asking that, as soon as I leave here, you don’t reach out. You don’t try again to win me back. You don’t try to turn my son against myself and Logan. You get help for your toxic behaviors. And _maybe_ , you’ll find someone else who can love you. 

“But that someone can’t be me. You blew your shot with me ten years ago, and again now. I’m happy with Logan and the family we’ve built with Roman. I wish you the same happiness with Virgil and Remus. I’m sad that I won’t get to see them, but this is for the best.” 

“The best for _you_ ,” Ethan said bitterly, letting his true colors show. 

“Once again, I have to look out for myself.” 

“So, _once again_ , you’re not going to look out for your sons?” 

“This time, unfortunately, Virgil and Remus aren’t mine to look out for. That task falls to you. I need to go. I’ve been here long enough.” Patton stood up and made his way to the front door. “I wish you the best. I wish the boys the best. I’m sorry that things had to turn out this way.” Patton opened the door and walked out, closing it softly and sadly behind him. 

**_~ • Fin • ~_ **

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Obviously, this was a really short chapter (believe it or not, it was going to be way shorter), but that's just because I wanted the conclusions of Patton's "confrontations" with the boys and with Ethan to be separate, hard-hitting moments.
> 
> Thanks for coming along on this angsty journey. I'll take any crying at me you have.
> 
> (If you've made it this far, here's a "secret:" I believe I alluded in the notes of chapter 1 that I've got other works in this universe already written up. That's true. I won't reveal the details, but just know that it'll probably be a couple of months before you see anything from me having to do with this universe, so I can go back and fine-tune stuff or just see if I even still like any of it. I might publish other works in the meantime, but I haven't decided yet.)

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, so I've actually had this whole story done for about a month, I think, but in honor of Thomas' new video, I decided I should finally post the first chapter. Updates will hopefully occur weekly.
> 
> Despite the revelations in the new video, this story isn't going to change. The characters will remain who I've made them to be. If there are future works in this series, in this universe, this same sentiment will apply to those, as well.


End file.
